


The Furture of Things to Come

by linda92595



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Dark Dean Winchester, Domestic Violence, M/M, Male Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-24 08:44:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linda92595/pseuds/linda92595
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after Dean becomes a human/demon hybrid and starts aiding demons in taking over the world John blows up a building with Dean and his followers in it. John goes back to hunting thinking that he and Sam are safe, Dean is dead  and the demon take over is finished.  This story takes place six months later.<br/>NOTE: There are no warnings for Character Death, no matter what it may look like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Furture of Things to Come

The cemetery was dark and cold, fog rising off the ground where the cement walkways, heated by the afternoon sun, came in contact with the cooler night air. Silver light from the full moon cast shadows on the ground beside the darker gray of the marble grave markers. At the top of the hill was a small, marble clad building, the walls shimmery white in the moonlight. Three steps led up to the walkway around the building, parting a low brick wall that skirted the perimeters of the structure.

 

Bobby stood against the wall of the mausoleum shot gun resting across his forearm. Farther down the path he could just make out the shadowy form of John Winchester seated on one of the large granite grave marker blocks. John was carrying a smaller hand-gun and although Bobby couldn’t see it he knew that John had the gun drawn. Still the distance between the two men made him uncomfortable.

 

The night sky was brightly lit enough that he should be able to see the creatures coming for John, but he hated to bet the other man’s life on his night vision, and aim. With a grimace Bobby shifted from one foot to the other then froze when he saw John straighten his back and turn toward the woods bordering the graveyard. John shifted raising a hand in the air, and Bobby lifted the shot gun turning his head to one side and squeezing one eye shut.

 

From farther down the path came a sound, at first John thought it might be the groundsman. But the heavy footfalls seemed to skitter against the cement walkways with the sound of claws scraping the ground. As the path rose over the slight rise of the hill two shapes separated from the shadows. They were smaller than he or Bobby but walked upright like humans although John knew that they were not. The taller of the two forms would be the male and he aimed his .45 at the larger more bulky form. Sighing he waited knowing the hand-gun wouldn’t do much good against the more heavily muscled male ghoul.

 

Suddenly the two figures halted their unsteady progress across the cemetery. The taller figure's head snapped up and he sniffed experimentally at the air. With a snarl the male ghoul pushed his mate behind him, and turned toward John. He sprang forward far quicker than either human had expected. John smiled.

 

Once the male was separate from the female ghoul John raised the .45 and snapped off one shot, not at the male, but at the female. The bullet hit her mid-chest and her tattered flesh split open spilling the remains of her guts out on the ground. The female shrieked, writhing and John fired a second shot into her head. The back of her skull blew out scattering blackened brain tissue on the ground.

 

Bobby leaned forward as the male ghoul turned briefly from John toward his mate; then hissing, made a dash for the man who had killed her. John didn’t run merely ducked down. The sound of thunder exploded behind him, and John hugged the ground as the shot gun blast raked the air above his head.

 

The gun blast hit the male ghoul in the head taking off most of his face. His body staggered a few steps forward before he collapsed on the ground, limbs twitching. John stood up firing one shot into the remaining part of his head and the ghoul was still.

 

He and Bobby dragged the two corpses onto the cement walkway in an area sheltered from the street by hedges. John dumped the black bag he carried on the ground and pulled out a canister of salt. He tossed salt over the remains while Bobby upended a gas can splashing liquid on the two bodies. When he was satisfied that the bodies were well covered he stepped back waiting for John to gather up his bag then lit the bodies. They burned brightly, the dead flesh collapsing in on itself in a matter of moments.

 

With a grin Bobby lifted the gas can and trudged after John to the car parked farther down the road. They stowed the gear in the trunk, carefully placing the guns in the weapons box concealed under a false bottom.

 

It only took them a few minutes to reach the single lane of businesses that passed for greater metropolitan Myrtle, Texas. John motioned the other man over and Bobby pulled the car into the barn-like structure that was an all night drive-through liquor store, something that had amused John to no end.

 

"Sure adds new meaning to drunk driving," he hissed at Bobby under his breath. The older man waved him off and asked for a six pack and a bottle of Jim Beam. The clerk bagged the bottle and Bobby handed the beer and whiskey across the seat to John.

 

They got to the hotel a few minutes later. They had taken a room at the Motor-court Motel, a non-descript two storied building just below the on-ramp to Highway 75. Their room was on the second floor, John almost always took a second story room if he could, and Bobby hadn't been out in the field long enough to have an opinion so he just went with it.

 

Bobby laid salt lines while John showered bits and pieces of ghoul out of his hair and off his body.  Once he was finished with the salt Bobby re-packed the canister and stripped out of his jeans and shirt.

 

The shower curtain was flimsy, see-through vinyl, and Bobby paused at the door long enough to admire John's slim, hard-muscled frame. Lifting the seat on the toilet Bobby peed then kicked his boxers through the bathroom door into the other room. He pushed the curtain back and stepped into the shower behind John. The other man grinned at him and shoved the bar of cheap soap over his shoulder. The shower was too small for two big men and they ended up bumping into each other more than anything else. Bobby tried shoving John against the wall, thrusting against him experimentally but the hot water cut out on them and the older man got a face full of cold spray. He sputtered as his dick protested the frigid rush of water and John collapsed against the tile laughing his ass off.

 

He shouldered his way past the other man and grabbed one of the fairly new towels on the rack. Rubbing his skin dry he grinned at Bobby.

 

"Just as well. With our luck we'd probably slip and fall, break our necks and the old biddy at the front desk would find us dead with your dick shoved up my ass."

 

Bobby snickered and grabbed his own towel.

 

"Yeah, I can just see old Miss Hendershot shaking a finger at Sam when he came to collect our personal effects…." He paused taking a deep breath then imitated an old lady. "Your father died with a dick up his ass, young man. I hope you learn something from that."

 

John giggled then cocked his head, considering that he might have had a tad bit more whisky than good sense strictly called for. He yawned. Bobby smacked him on the arm.

 

"Hey, Winchester, don't go falling asleep on me. Junior's perking right up."

 

"Junior's always up," John said glancing down.

 

Sure enough Bobby was at half-mast already and rising up for a full salute quickly.

 

 "Jeeze, can't you keep that thing under control?"

 

"I haven't noticed you complaining any," Bobby snorted and John shrugged.

 

He hadn't been that well fucked for a while. John hit the bed with a bounce and crawled across the surface on his hands and knees. He rustled through the nightstand and pulled out a foil packet and a tube of KY-jelly, handing them to the other man. Bobby had been out of action, bedroom wise, for long enough that the condom was really only for show, and even though the box proclaimed them to be pre-lubricated John would sit down a lot better tomorrow with a little wetter entry.

 

Bobby wrestled John over onto his back, and John sighed. He preferred being entered from behind, lying on his back had too many bad memories attached to it, but he had never really told Bobby about his time with Dean, so he just let it go. Bobby liked the 'missionary position', liked kissing John when they fucked so John usually gave in.

 

Bobby took his time, sliding into the younger man nice and easy, gentling him with softly murmured words when he shook and trembled. Bobby knew that Dean had held his father prisoner and knew that John had resorted to blowing up a building to set himself free. And he had seen rape victims before so he could imagine what John was freeing himself from. He was always non-aggressive, letting John come to him, or at least, making sure John knew he could stop this at any time with no recriminations.

 

"Are you okay, John?" he whispered in the other man's ear.

 

John heaved a sigh and slid his hands down Bobby's back clasping the older man's butt, urging him in deeper. Bobby was more than happy to comply. He leaned down on his elbows then managed to pick up one of John's hands moving it to John's own dick. John jacked himself in rhythm to Bobby's gentle thrusting. Orgasm was soft and easy with none of the desperation of youth and neither man minded in the least.

 

The first time with them had been something of a shock to Bobby. John had shown up on his doorstep after driving all the way in from Vegas non-stop. John was wired on caffeine and maybe something else, and had all but collapsed on Bobby crying against the front of his shirt for almost an hour. Then Bobby had leaned forward and kissed John gently on -the forehead just offering comfort, John had titled his head back and Bobby kissed his lips. All he could clearly remember of that night was waking up the next morning with John wrapped tightly in his arms.

 

Bobby wasn't stupid, no matter what face he showed to the world. He had been watching the rise of Winchester, Inc. Had kept volumes of notes on demon possessions and appearances, and he knew that Dean Winchester had been possessed. The network had made it a point of putting Dean on their number one wanted list, but hunters had started dying in large numbers and they had hidden trying to keep a few alive to fight in the future. Somehow Bobby had escaped notice.

 

When the casino had blown up and burned, Bobby was also certain that John had managed to get free of Dean's influence and take action. The one thing that bothered him, the one thing he wasn't sure that John knew was that Dean's body had never been found. And Winchester, Inc. seemed to keep rolling along.

 

 

They had been hunting together for the past six months. It was easier for John with the money he had in the account set up by Dean. True John didn't have control of all of Winchester, Inc. but he had more than enough to suit his purposes.  He and Bobby had just fallen into hunting together and neither man had any desire to give it up.

 

John sighed again, rolling over. Bobby spooned up behind him, and draped an arm around the younger man's waist. He yawned against the back of John's head, and John snuffled.

 

"No drooling, Singer."

 

"I'll make you a deal, John-boy. I won't drool if you won't snore."

 

"Yeah, yeah like that's gonna happen."

 

Bobby grinned and fell asleep to the sound of John's deep, even snoring.

 

 

The next morning John walked into Denny's across the street from the motel, and glanced around. Bobby was just storing the last of his gear in the Impala and told John to get them a table for breakfast. The place was fairly full and it looked like they would be eating at the bar. There were two young men sitting at one end beside the TV and one of them looked up at John and smiled as he walked past. The young man was maybe twenty, with neatly clipped honey blond hair, and green eyes. John had to stand still until he could get his breathing under control, even then his chest ached.

 

"Are you okay," the boy asked and his voice was smooth as honey and touched by a bit of a southern accent.

 

John huffed out a breath and nodded. The other young man quickly rose and pulled a barstool out guiding the older man into it.

 

"I hope Jamie didn't upset you," he said quietly giving the other man a frown. Jamie jerked his shoulder's back in a shrug and turned his palms up to the ceiling.

 

"What'd I do?"

 

The gesture was so familiar that John had to close his eyes. He barely heard the sound of shuffling feet and the stool beside him scraping across the floor. When he looked up Bobby was sitting beside him. He looked at the concerned faces of the two younger men.

 

"John just lost his son. Your friend looks like him, that's all."

 

They both relaxed visibly and Jamie settled back in his seat.

 

"I thought he might be offended because we…well, we're…"

 

"Queer," a voice from one of the tables jarred John out of his haze. He glared at the trucker sitting across from them. "They been sitting there holding hands all morning. It's disgusting."

 

"Why don't you just leave them alone?" John snarled.

 

The trucker sneered, and then drained his coffee cup.

 

"What's it to you?" he snapped.

 

Bobby knew what John was going to do, but he still wished he had more warning. Suddenly he found himself with an armful of warm, heavy weight and John's lips were pressed to his. Bobby tilted his head to give the other man more room to work. When John settled back into his own seat the entire room was hushed. The two boys at the bar were sitting there mouths open, stunned into silence.

 

Bobby looked behind him. The trucker's face was florid, his mouth a dark O of surprise and disgust. He rose from his seat and Bobby slid his stool back rising to his full height. John didn't even bother standing up, just shifted his shoulders back and glared at the guy. Suddenly he didn’t seem so sure of himself. These were not two slender, soft looking boys. These men actually looked like they could hurt a man. Snatching his check off the table he stormed to the register.

 

The waitress was flustered but she picked up the coffee mugs on the bar and filled them before sitting them in front of the two older men. They ordered their breakfast and ignored the stares from the other patrons. Jamie sighed then offered Bobby a tentative smile.

 

"You didn't have to do that," he said smiling. "It was great, but you didn't have to pretend."

 

Bobby worked his fingers into the scruff of John's neck jerking the other man into a quick one-armed hug.

 

"Who said we were pretending."

 

John ate his eggs skimming through the morning paper looking at headlines. He had heard a news report on the television last night about Winchester's Golden Devil Casino re-opening, and that bothered him. He knew that the building hadn't been all that damaged. He had gone back after he had gotten out of the hospital and went through the wreckage.  He wondered who was actually running the company, although John had been a share-holder and on the board of directors he had never actually participated in running the corporation. Dean had his proxy and voted his shares, John really had never given a damn about the business, and to be truthful most of the time he had been too drugged up to even be capable of doing so. John folded the paper and shoved it away, frustrated. Bobby came back from the bathroom and clapped him on the shoulder.

 

"Ready to go?"

 

John nodded picking up the check. They stopped at the register then wandered out to the parking lot and the old Impala. He handed the other man the keys and slid into the passenger seat. Bobby grinned and cranked the engine up. They hit the freeway and turned the car to the west. In two days they would be in Palo Alto going to visit Sam. He had called John a few nights ago and wanted his father and Bobby to come visit, saying only that he had something important to tell them.

 

Bobby grinned.

 

"Johnny, you know Sam is gonna marry that girl, don't you."

 

Nodding John leaned back and closed his eyes.

 

"She's a looker, Jessica is. I think she's good for Sammy.  He looked so happy the last time we were out there."

 

Bobby nodded.

 

"Well, until they walked in the bedroom without knocking."

 

Grimacing John chuckled, a low dirty sound that sent a shiver down the older man's spine.

 

"Yeah, I guess they learned a lesson about that."

 

"Still he and Jess took it well enough," Bobby said smiling at the other man. John flushed.

 

"I think that after what happened with…in Vegas. I think he was happy that I found someone willing to put up with me."

 

"I'm more than willing to put up with you, Johnny."

 

John looked out the side window, swallowing. He slid his hand over the seat until his fingers laced with Bobby's. They didn't do public displays of affection, weren't often openly emotional with each other, but John was less wary than he had been and Bobby was willing to push him along a little in that regard.

 

 

They were sitting in a bar in Kingman, Arizona when John looked up at the television set on a shelf behind the bar. A casual, throw-away blurb on the evening news caught his attention and he waved the bar tender over.

 

“Hey, can you turn that up a little?” he asked.

 

The bar tender, a girl no older than Sam, shrugged and picked up the remote thumbing up the volume. John smiled at her and she flushed.

 

“You want another,” she asked cocking her head at the glass in his hand.

 

John drained the last of the whisky and cola and nodded.

 

“Coming right up.”

 

She shuffled to the bar back pulling out a bottle of amber liquid. Not the cheap stuff that her boss usually made her pawn off on the customers. But Jim Beam, the bottle he usually kept for himself. She mixed the drink and set a coaster down on the satiny gleaming wood surface of the bar.

 

She sighed, for a guy his age he was damn good looking and a good tipper too. She had briefly entertained the idea of trying to pick him up, until the older guy he was with had clandestinely squeezed his butt-cheek before they sat down. Well hell, wasn’t that always her luck. So she had just contented herself with watching the way the wash-softened denim of his jeans wrapped around the curve of his ass when he bent over the pool table.

 

The older guy wasn’t her type but he was kind, good-natured in a bluff kind of way. His voice held a tinge of sun-drenched corn fields in it, and his eyes sparkled, albeit, mostly when he looked at the younger man. And she had shivered at the way he whispered ‘John’ in the other man’s ear when he had leaned over his shoulder, a little closer than was strictly necessary, to follow the line of his shot.

 

Seated on the cane-backed stool at the end of the bar John watched the news hoping to catch a bit more information on the lead-in story. He wasn’t disappointed. The camera cut to a young man standing in a bare, dusty patch of land with a few scrubby pine trees in the background. John sighed; it looked like half the state of Arizona.

 

“Here on the outskirts of Hadley, a small community just fifteen miles north of Kingman a grizzly scene unfolds.”

 

The camera panned to the right and John could just make out the faint rust colored stains on the darker yellow-brown soil. 

 

“This morning four college students were found dead, here at a vacant lot at the intersection of two simple country roads.”

 

John stiffened; cross-roads meant deals with demons. Maybe some kind of a deal that had gone sour. He strained to hear the broadcast above the background noise of the crowded room. The news reporter turned to the camera as the picture shifted from the sandy ground to the young man’s solemn face.

 

“The police don’t have a clue as to why these four young people are dead, and no leads on who killed them either. All that the shaken residents of this little out of the way settlement know for sure is that four people were murdered in their midst.”

 

John stopped listening as the program cut back to the newsroom. When Bobby settled onto a stool beside him John offered him a grim smile.

 

“Looks like we’re going to make a little side trip.  Some backwater little berg called Hadley, about fifteen miles to the north.”

 

“Something catch your attention, Johnny?”

 

“Four people, all college students, found murdered at a cross-roads.”

 

“How’d they die?” Bobby asked wrapping his fingers around the beer bottle in front of him and taking a swig. John shrugged.

 

“Didn’t say but there was a lot of blood on the ground. And hellhounds are known for going for the throat.”

 

Bobby nodded. “So you think somebody made a deal with a demon and it went south?”

 

John finished off his drink, and grasped the other man by the knee pushing himself up and off the barstool.

 

“I think it’s worth taking a look at. Sam’s not expecting us anyway. It won’t matter if we show up tomorrow or a few days from now.”

 

 

It was seven o’clock and the sun was beginning to go down. They decided to spend the night in Kingman and go scout out the scene of the murder at first light. John would be better able to look for tracks in full light.  They weren’t even sure that anything supernatural was involved.

 

The first hotel that they came to was a small, older looking building that might have once been a boarding house in the old west. The wooden structure certainly looked old enough. The front desk was in what seemed to be a living room or parlor and through an open doorway John could see a small dining room with several large tables covered in white cloths. A young girl was moving from table to table placing small bowls of flowers in the center.  It seemed oddly homey.

 

An elderly lady was sitting behind the desk on a high backed stool, patiently checking entries in an old fashioned ledger. She glanced up at the two men offering them a tight smile. John hesitated but Bobby strode up to the desk.

 

“We’d like a room for the night,” he said, and she looked both men up and down. Finally, she pushed the ledger over to him.

 

“Does your friend want a room as well?” she asked primly and John was sure he didn’t like her tone of voice. Bobby shook his head.

 

“We just need the one room.”

 

Now the older lady looked miffed.

 

“But the rooms only have one bed in them,” she added.

 

Bobby glanced at her from under the brim of his cap and grinned.

 

“We only need one bed.”

 

Her eyes snapped open and John was sure that she was going to refuse to give them the room, but apparently the thought that they might complain or the need for business won out and she handed Bobby a key.

 

 “Check out is at 11:00 am if you stay after that you will be charged for another night. It’s $52.50 taxes included.”

 

Bobby fished his wallet out of his pocket and handed her a credit card. She looked at John as if he was a gold digger or maybe a whore. He felt laughter bubbling up inside him, and clamped his lips together to keep it in. After she had run Bobby’s credit card and given him the receipt John slipped his arm through the other man’s and hissed in a stage whisper.

 

“If you want anything kinky, it’ll cost more.”

 

To his credit the older man didn’t blink. He glanced from John’s amused face to the washed-out prickly faced old lady and kept walking to the elevator.  As the door slid closed Bobby could see her talking animatedly in hushed tones to several people.

He sighed.

 

 “John, you know the old biddy is telling everybody and his brother that they’ve got an honest to God hooker in the place.”

 

“How come people never assume that you’re the whore? Why always me?”

 

“Well, look at our ages.”

 

“I’m only four years younger than you,” John said with a frown.

 

Bobby turned patting him on the arm.

 

“You _were_ only four years younger, but after Dean did whatever he did, it knocked off about a dozen years. And he kept doing it, too. So right now Johnny, you’re about sixteen years younger, so I guess that makes me your sugar daddy.”

 

John rolled his eyes. Pushing open the door he dumped his duffle bag onto the dresser. The room was actually pretty nice; the carpets looked new and were spotlessly clean. There was a small table and four chairs arranged in a corner and the bed was large, draped in a heavy comforter and thick pillows. He sat down at the table and unlaced his boots.

 

Bobby was already stripping down for a shower, stuffing his dirty clothes in a mesh bag, and pulling clean underwear out of his own duffle. He looked over at John wagging his eyebrows.

 

“You going to join me?”

 

John cast him a sideways glance.

 

“I don’t know. You always end up trying to screw me and we flounder around like a couple of fools before we realize that neither one of us has good enough reflexes to fuck in the shower.”

 

Bobby’s voice carried out of the bathroom.

 

“Hey, the tub’s pretty big and there’s bubble bath.”

 

John blinked again.

 

“Bubble bath?”

 

“Yeah, come on Johnny. I’m filling the tub. You can ride me.”

 

“Okay, okay but don’t get pissed if I drown your ass.”

 

 

They found out it took some finagling to get two six foot plus men into one bathtub but it worked out okay in the end, and no one ended up drowned. Afterwards John climbed into bed dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. Bobby rolled under the blankets and rifled through the nightstand for the remote.

 

The late news was on, and they lay back propped on pillows watching for any more information on the case in Hadley. When nothing new was forthcoming Bobby clicked off the TV rolled over draping an arm around John’s waist.  John fell asleep to the soft, murmuring breath against his neck.

 

He wasn’t sure what woke him, but John sat up. Bobby was curled on one side, snoring softly and John rubbed his eyes. There it was again, the sound of feet whispering over the carpets in the hallway.  John slipped the Glock he had laid beside the bed off the nightstand and rose silently.

 

He reached down for Bobby’s discarded jeans and fished the door key out of his pocket. Carefully he stepped over the salt line just inside the door, and pulled it closed behind him. There was no one in the hallway and he wondered if it was just some late arriving guest going to another room on the floor when an emergency exit, at the far end of the hall, slid closed.

 

John pressed the gun against his thigh and quickly crossed the hall. Keeping to the shadows on the side of the corridor he crab-walked up to the door, then pressed his hand against the cold metal reinforced frame. It was a fire door, thick, paint-coated metal, and it still vibrated faintly with the force of its closing. Something big or strong had swung that door closed on its heavy steel hinges.

 

John looked down at the bar across the door. This was an emergency exit, made to lock behind whoever left through the door. If he went into the stairwell he would be trapped, unable to get back into the corridor without going downstairs to the parking lot, and back in through the night exit. John pushed at the door, pausing again. He could clearly make out footfalls on the stairs, going down and out into the parking lot.

 

He was armed, but he was alone and barefoot he would be vulnerable. The footsteps seemed to pause, as if whoever or whatever was in the stairwell was waiting for John to make a decision. Good sense finally won out and John backed through the door letting it fall close behind him.

 

In the stairway stood a tall, burly looking man, hands grasping the railing, head tipped upward. If John had gone further into the landing he would have gotten a good look at the man’s face. It was a face that he would have remembered. The man frowned as John disappeared back the way he had come. He lifted a cell phone.

 

“Sorry, boss. It’s a no go. He didn’t follow me out into the stairs. I’ll have to follow him tomorrow, and catch them at the site.”

 

Kyle folded his phone shut, patting the gun under his shoulder and then turned toward the door leading out into the lot. The bright orange of the halogen street light cast a sickly glow over his pasty features and flashed on his amber eyes.

 

John squatted on the dry, hard-packed earth. He pressed his fingers into the shallow indentions in the soil. The prints were faint, half obliterated by wind and too many hurried footfalls but he could still make out the faint tread of a man’s smooth soled dress shoe. There were a multitude of sneaker prints, not moving aimlessly as if by causal wandering, but walking in unison, rigid, almost in formation.

 

In all the time that John had been searching the lot he had not come across a single animal print, not even something as mundane as a dog or a coyote. He was fairly certain that the four kids had not been killed by a hellhound. They were huge, black dogs much larger than normal animals and left distinct tracks punctuated by deep, curved claw marks.

 

Bobby was sitting on the hood of the Impala with a shot gun resting on his thighs. He hadn’t set foot on the lot yet, merely watched as John walked, and sometimes crawled over the rough, dry terrain. Finally, John rose brushing the dirt off the knees of his jeans and walked back to the car. Bobby pushed a water bottle at him.  John leaned against the side of the Impala drinking deeply before turning to face the other man.

 

“It wasn’t a hellhound,” he said, capping the bottle and handing it back. “I can see the prints the kids left, two boys and two girls. One of the girls was wearing some kind of heeled shoe, her foot kept turning out in the sand, probably a sandal. The other one had small feet, and was wearing tennis shoes. The prints are odd though. They walked paired up, side by side in a small tight group.”

 

“Maybe they were talking, or playing some game.”

 

John shook his head. “I don’t think so. They were walking with a purpose. I think someone brought them out here. I’d need to see some crime scene photos, or get a look at the bodies but an animal didn’t kill them. No matter how much blood was on the ground.”

 

Bobby sighed, once John got his back up about something he wasn’t easily discouraged.

 “Do you think they took the bodies to Kingman?”

 

“Don’t know,” John said. “There’s something odd. I found footprints, a big man, heavy step but wearing dress shoes, probably leather soles.”

 

“Like mafia kind of dress shoes?” Bobby asked.  John shrugged.

 

“Could be, but these were four college-aged people. True, two of them were girls but that doesn’t mean they couldn’t fight. I’ve seen women hunters I’d think twice about tangling with. And the two boys weren’t small either, based on the size of their footprints and depth of penetration into the soil. But they just walked out into the vacant lot, two by two, with one guy and let him kill them, all four.”

 

Bobby frowned.  "That does sound odd. I'm thinking he was something they might not have seen before."

 

"Demon?" John asked, "Or vampire…any number of things could have the strength and commanding presence to get them to cooperate."

 

"So it looks like we're not finished in Kingman," Bobby added.

 

He raised his foot hooking John behind the knee and pulling the younger man forward. John jerked once then slid over the rough ground until his thighs were pressed against the bumper of the car. Bobby grinned, sliding his arm around John's waist, lifting one hand to cup his chin. He leaned forward letting his lips brush over John's, pressing insistently until he opened. John's eyes drifted close until he was startled by the sound of a car horn as a convertible full of younger people whizzed by. They whistled and shouted at the two older men. Blushing John stepped back.

 

"I can't believe you had me making out on the side of the road on the hood of the damn car."

 

"Hey, we impressed the younguns," Bobby said, sliding off the hood.

 

John pulled the keys out of his pocket and got into the car. Bobby stowed the shot-gun in the trunk and slid into the passenger seat beside the other man.

 

"What now?"

 

"I've got to find out where they took the bodies. Hadley is way too small to have much of a coroner's office. If they didn't transport them down to Kingman they probably have them in a funeral home, here in town. I'd say we drive into Hadley and see if they even have a mortuary."

 

They stopped for lunch at a little out of the way place called Granny's Diner. Granny herself took their orders and failed to look suitably impressed when John flashed his US Marshal's badge and asked if there was a mortuary in town. She did however give them a lead. Once John and Bobby's food was served she pulled up a chair and sat down.

 

"You're here about those kids that got themselves killed, aren't you?"

 

"I'm really not a liberty to say, ma'am," John said taking a sip of iced tea.

 

She nodded fanning herself with the front of her apron.

 

"But on the off chance that I was here about those poor unfortunate young people, would the local authorities bother bringing them here or take them on down to Kingman."

 

She looked at him sideways as if wondering why he was asking her, and then decided she really didn't care. She could save them some trouble because that damned fool of a sheriff wasn't worth his salt.

 

"Oh we don't have any fancy coroner's office. And Bill Harkins is an idiot. He's way over his head on this one. But I can save you a trip over to his office. They took them kids over the Perkins Brothers Funeral Home. The only one around here, unless you drive down to Kingman. They've been keeping them on ice until the FBI or some damn thing gets here."

 

John nodded. He paid the bill and he and Bobby got into the Impala and drove down the street to the funeral home. Bobby had always been freaked out by mortuaries. His uncle was a mortician and he spent the summers growing up at their house. It had always scared the hell out of him that he was sleeping with dead people on the lower floors. Now that he knew more about the supernatural, knew that the monsters out there were real, he didn’t feel so badly about it.

 

He kept a distance from John and flashed the badge and ID that John had made for him. The secretary was more impressed than Granny had been but then John had decided she was a tough old broad and nobody's fool either. The younger woman led them to the back room, and through the casket sales area. John shuddered. The last time he had been in a place like this he had been picking out a casket for Mary.

 

A short elderly man in a nice charcoal gray suit was waiting for them in the back corridor. He shook hands after scanning their identification.

 

"Sheriff Harkins brought the bodies here so that they wouldn't decay while waiting for transport to Kingman, to the coroner's office there. I just got a call this morning that they are sending someone for the bodies so it's good that you got here now. "

 

He led them to a smaller tiled room that Bobby recognized, at once, as an embalming room. There was a partially covered body on a table that John glanced at but dismissed immediately because of the age of the deceased. 

 

Mr. Perkins opened a metal door and took them into the cold storage area. There were four, emergency room, gurneys lined up along one wall. The bodies on the gurneys were draped in white sheets, but all the coverings were covered with rust colored stains. Perkins grimaced when John pulled the first sheet back. He didn't even flinch at the girl's ruined face. Half of her head was missing and her one good eye stared at him, clouded but still blue. He couldn't turn her head because she was frozen too rigidly so he settled for pulling the cloth back inspecting her neck. It was broken, snapped just at the base of the throat. There were bruises ringing her throat as well.  Small dark purple and blue, circular bruises that he belatedly realized were finger marks. He placed his hands on the prints. The man who had broken her neck had larger hands, and must have been strong because the bruising had not spread but was merely points under his hand; she hadn't had a chance to struggle.

 

He looked at the torn flesh on her face. There was no bruising along the edges of the ripped flesh, no signs of bleeding under the skin.

 

"Bobby look, her head was ripped up post mortem, there's no bleeding and no bruising at the torn edges."

 

Bobby nodded, leaning down, following John's hand as he swept over the surface of the girl's wounds.

 

"He broke her neck first, and mutilated the body afterwards."

 

John didn't say anything but he could tell the other man was thinking the same thing. Whatever had killed her had fed on her afterwards. They went from body to body and all were the same. All the kids had had their necks broken; snapped easily, with no struggle, by a single individual.  And all the bodies had been mutilated after death.

 

When they got back to the car John sat in the passenger seat with his journal on his lap. Bobby leaned against the steering wheel watching as the other man made quick notes on the page in his neat block printing.

 

"Well, that lets out vampires. They can't consume dead blood, it poisons them. So they would have drained the blood first then killed the kids. There was too much blood left," he said.

 

"So that means it was a demon and a big son of bitch too from the looks of it." Bobby sighed. "That just leaves us with why?"

 

John cocked his head.

 

"I think it’s a trap. For us maybe, or maybe just for any hunters that might be in the area."

 

"True enough, Johnny, but that still leaves us with why?"

 

"I don't know, but I intend to find out. I'm going back out there tonight."

 

Bobby looked at him sideways.

 

"Let's hole up until sunset, bless the ammo and stock up on holy water."

 

 

The vacant lot didn't look much different in the cold light of the moon. Still bare, sandy soil and dark blood stains. Bobby stood in the center of the lot, watching, as John paced a few steps then turned. He was frowning and Bobby knew that meant he couldn't get a clean lead on where the attacker had gone after he had killed the four kids. Then John paused, standing upright, head cocked to one side.

 

"How'd they get here?" he asked.

 

Bobby jumped a little, startled out of his half daze, then turned toward the younger man.

 

"What, Johnny?"

 

"How'd the kids get here? I doubt that they were just walking out here in the middle of nowhere. They must have had a car. Where is it?"

 

"Maybe the sheriff towed it in."

 

Nodding John conceded, "Could have, but nobody mentioned them bringing in a car. The kids were transported in ambulances. The bodies were still on gurneys. So if they had a car someone moved it. I want to know why."

 

Bobby followed his friend across the lot and into the small stand of scrubby looking pine trees down the slope of the hill.  The sky had grown steadily darker but there was enough moonlight to make traversing the bare ground easy enough. Casting a glance upward Bobby thanked his lucky star that it was not a full moon and there was no need to worry about werewolves.

 

There were several deep ruts in the ground that looked like they might have been car tracks and Bobby smiled. It wasn't often that John was wrong when it came to tracking.

They rounded a sharp bend in the trail and there it was, a small dark colored car sitting half in a ditch with all the doors left open. With a grunt John leapt over a deep crevice in the ground and skidded a few feet down the soft sandy slope of the hill. He picked his way carefully over to the car.

 

Bobby slid to a halt beside him as the younger man ducked his head into the car's interior. Suddenly Bobby froze, he leaned back, eyes scanning the horizon. He tapped John on the rear end and he immediately slid out of the car. Bobby motioned to the stand of trees, lifting the shot gun he carried. John nodded.

 

Pulling his gun out of the waistband of his jeans John took up a position just behind the other man. Bobby dropped back a step, making sure he could fire and not hit the other man. Whoever or whatever was in the small grove had not been there earlier or had been pretty well hidden for neither of the men to have seen them. And they were quiet, almost impossible to hear. It made Bobby pause when he thought of that. Had whatever they were hunting deliberately given away its position to draw them in?

 

He pulled up short, making frantic gestures at John to fall back but the other man either didn't see him or didn't care. He moved forward. Bobby cursed under his breath and jumped two steps forward just as a figure rose up out of the shadows. He whirled, taking a shot but the round went wide, whining as it hit a rock. John shuddered, raking the air with the hand-gun and seizing on the dark shape as a target. The bullet hit, he was sure of it but the man-shaped form just kept coming.

 

Several more figures popped up out of the darkness, swarming over the two men. John turned in time to see Bobby taken down, struggling under two slender shapes. Then John was seized from behind, caught up in steel hands, and held fast. He struggled, jamming his elbow into his assailant's ribs but other than a deep grunt the demon held him fast. He jerked, hoping to break his own neck if he had too. But apparently the demon was wise to him, and slid an arm under John's armpit locking him a wrestling hold, effectively immobilizing him. He stood panting, as the other two demons shuffled Bobby to his feet.

 

"This is the one we want, the boss said dispose of the other one," the big demon said smoothly and John froze.

 

He knew that voice. Suddenly John was hyper-aware of his surroundings, watching in frozen horror as his own gun was retrieved from the ground and turned on his friend and lover. Bobby's body jerked as the shot hit him mid-chest then he spun, landing face down on the ground at John's feet.

 

Sagging limply John fell against the demon's chest, feeling the bulky, well-muscled shape under his back. He closed his eyes. He stood against the larger man's body for a long time, and the demon made no move to hustle him along. Then John slowly became aware of several things, the heat of the wool suit that the demon was wearing, and the soft rustle of the silk shirt beneath, even the musky, wood smoke and leather cologne that masked the demon's natural body odor. 

 

Then they were moving and John was forced to open his eyes. He managed one last look at the fallen man, and was grateful that, at least, the demons hadn't fed on him. Bobby lay unmoving, a black stain fanning out around his body.

 

They walked away from the small grove of trees, down the slope of the path past the empty car, and along a deeply rutted road that John had not noticed before.  As the small group rounded a bend in the road John could see several more man-shaped figures in a semi-circle around what looked like an above ground crypt but what John knew was a cistern cover. They must be near a farm, someplace that had a well.

 

The demons parted, allowing John inside the circle then the others fell in line, closing in on him. John stood with the back of his thighs pressed against the cement block structure that could be an altar. He waited for the demons to move in, waited for them to rip and tear at his flesh and hoped it would be quick. With Bobby gone John had virtually nothing to live for. Then he paused, that was not true he still had Sam, and the girl that was going to be his daughter-in-law. He would have liked to see that.

 

After a few minutes John shifted from one foot to the other, He was sweating heavily but determined not to let them see it. The demons themselves seemed to be waiting for something, and then above the trees a bright, blue-white light split the air. The dust whipped up at their feet, and John jerked, taking an unsteady step backwards. But the big demon clasped his shoulder.

 

"Now, don't try anything, Mr. Winchester," the big demon smiled; John cringed.

 

"Kyle?" he asked, but the words were swept away by the wind rushing around them as the helicopter landed. A single figure emerged from the chopper, tall, slender, moving with an easy grace and John felt his mouth go dry.

 

The figure stopped, just far enough away so that the running lights on the helicopter left his face blanketed in shadow but John knew him too well. His body shut down, as a multitude of memories overwhelmed him. John took a shaky breath as the man stepped forward.

 

The lights fell over Dean's face, smooth tanned skin gleaming in the moonlight, white even teeth flashing in a smile. He stepped forward raising a hand, and John expected a blow. Instead Dean stoked his fingers over the older man's cheek.  He caressed the skin, letting his fingers rake through the two day's stubble on John's chin.

 

"John," Dean whispered leaning forward.

 

His lips pressed to John's dry mouth, tongue working at the anger tensed lips. John tried to pull his head back but Dean slid his hand behind his father's skull, tangling his fingers in John's thick, dark curls.

 

"You need a hair cut or are you going hippy on me?"

 

"I thought that you were…"

 

Dean tightened his fingers in John's hair, pulling the older man's head back; leaning down to let his teeth graze the vulnerable skin on his father's throat. John cringed as Dean bit down, marking him.

 

"You know, I should be very angry with you John. You blew up my building.  Oh, and you tried to kill me. Do you know how much that building cost?"

 

"Spare me the speeches, Dean. Just get it over with."

 

"You think I'm going to kill you? Oh honey, you really disappoint me. I would never kill you. I'm going to have to hurt you though, John. I need for the boys to see that you're being punished for killing off so many of our friends. In a way, though, I should thank you for that. I mean, when you killed all those demons, where do you think all their power went? You just made me stronger, John."

 

Swiftly Dean's hand lashed out catching John across the cheek. He spun around from the blow hitting the ground hard. Before he could get his hands and knees under him Dean stepped forward kicking John in the side. He grunted as the air whooshed out of his lungs but managed to roll with the kick to lessen the impact. Scrabbling over the hard, loose soil John crawled a few feet before Dean caught up with him again. This time he wasn't able to roll with the kick and his ribs took the brunt of the force.

 

John uttered a short sharp scream as his ribs cracked. Dean punched down, catching John in the back, just above the waist, and John went down. Dirt spattered the sweat-stained skin of his face and John came up onto his knees, arms wrapped around his ribs. Dean slammed a fist into his face and the skin on his cheek split, droplets of blood splattering across the cement block well-cover.

 

Dean beat him for a long while and John prayed that this thing that had been his son would kill him. But, apparently, John's prayers were going unheeded these days, and Dean stopped just short of John blacking out from pain.

 

Then John found himself being lifted up and slammed bodily onto the cement block. His head rang with the impact his vision graying out but he still didn't lose consciousness. Dean was over him in an instant. Smiling down benignly like the good son he had been.

 

 "Still with me, Dad?"

 

John was confused for a minute.

 

"Where arm I? What's happening, Dean?"

 

"I just wanted to make sure you were around for the main event, John."

 

Dean grinned, hooking his fingers into the waistband of John's jeans. His nimble fingers unfastened the belt, dropping the buckle onto the cold cement with a clatter. Then the zipper was torn down, and cold air whispered across John's groin.

 

"Going commando? Dad, you little whore. Did Bobby like you to whore for him? You know, I gotta say, I was so disappointed when I saw the two of you earlier. Come on, you had all this…" Dean raked his hand down his own chest.  "And you down-graded to the red-neck, hillbilly. I thought you had a little class, John."

 

Through the haze of pain and dizziness John felt his jeans being jerked down to the ankles. Then he heard the zipper open on Dean's trousers. Grunting, the younger man lifted John's legs, pushing them as far apart as he could with the older man's jeans tangled over his boots. It was enough. Holding John's legs aloft with one hand he quickly pulled his cock out of his pants, and bent down. He fished a foil packet out of his pocket and ripped it open with his teeth dripping the contents over John's hole.

 

"That's for me, not for you. You don't get concern right now. Maybe later, if you're a good boy, I'll take care of you."

 

Slick fingers pushed into John, who cringed, trying to wriggle away. Dean slapped him across the face then gripped his hip tightly. John's back arched up off the cement when he was breached. Dean thrust in hard, pulling all the way out and thrusting in again. A scream was ripped from John's throat.

 

Dean took his time, actually pulling out to keep from coming two or three times before finally pounding into John for all he was worth. John panted, trying to move way, but the younger man held him fast. He looked around at the ring of faces leering at them. He was horrified when he realized that most of the demons, Kyle included, had their cocks out masturbating in rhythm to Dean's thrusts. Dean made no effort to spare John any pain, until he finally came with a low growl. Panting, Dean bent over John, dropping the other man's legs heavily back to the cement block. John lay humiliated as the pain dragged him into the darkness.

 

 

 

When he came to John sat up abruptly and then decided that might not have been the wisest thing to do. His head spun and he crashed back down on the soft, probably goose-down, pillows. The sheets where crisp white, and softly fragranced. The bed he was lying in was huge, dark wood, four posts, sheer white fabric draped from above. Glancing around the room John tried to imagine where he was. It wasn't the penthouse in Vegas, that much he knew. He could see an expanse of green lawn spreading out beyond the huge bay windows framed by floral print draperies.

 

The fabric of the curtains matched the bedcovers, and the upholstery on the sofa, and chairs, tastefully arranged around the fireplace. He rolled to one side, waiting until the pain faded, before casting a glance at the rest of the room. There was a closet door, closed, two tall dressers, a writing desk and an entertainment center with a TV and various other pieces of electronic equipment that he wasn't interested in. Nothing that looked like it could be used as a weapon. Although, truthfully, as weak and disorientated as he was, John doubted he could actually use a weapon right now.

 

 

Where the hell had Dean taken him? He settled for surveying himself. He should be dead after the way Dean had beaten and …raped him.  But he wasn't, so Dean intended on going back to the way it was before. Well, John wasn't going quietly into that drug induced oblivion again. Even if he had to lay down for Dean, he'd do it with his head on straight.

 

He sat up more slowly this time, and the room stayed in a relatively solid state. Blinking, John looked at himself in the mirror. Someone, Dean probably, had healed all the damage. There wasn't a mark on him, except for the hickey on his throat and John felt his face go hot.  He was bathed and dressed in emerald green silk pajamas. John sighed, why the hell did Dean get such a kick out of dressing him in silk?

 

The door swung open and John got ready for a violent confrontation with his oldest son. But instead an elderly looking lady, dressed in a neat dark blue uniform and white apron, appeared rolling a wooden cart. On it was a white cloth covered plate, napkin and silverware, a glass of juice, water and a small ceramic pot of coffee.  John did notice that there was no knife, not even a butter knife, on the tray.

 

The woman pushed the cart over, lifting the top and settling it across John's lap. He blinked.  The absurd thought that he was being held prisoner by Mary Poppins crossed his mind, and John almost laughed. Except, he was afraid that if he started laughing he might not stop until he was in a straight-jacket and padded room.

 

"Good morning," she said smiling softly.

 

Of course she had a smooth British accent. Again, an image of Mary Poppins rose in John's mind and he closed his eyes.

 

"Are you not feeling well enough for breakfast yet, Mr. Winchester?"

 

"John," he said dryly, then looked down.

 

Biscuits, bacon, eggs-over easy, potatoes, everything that John loved for breakfast. All cooked perfectly. His stomach rumbled.  Well, apparently, his body was ready for breakfast, no matter what his brain was telling him. Nodding, he watched as she poured out the coffee, rich and smooth and dark. He held up the cup, his hand trembled a little, but he ignored it. He thought about Bobby, laying dead on the side of the road and fury washed over him. He'd play Dean's game for a while; figure out how to do the job permanently this time.

 

She turned to leave but John cleared his throat, and she turned back. He smiled tiredly.

 

"Uhh, who are you?"

 

"Oh Mr. Win… John, please let me introduce myself…"

 

"Do you want me to guess your name?'"

 

She looked puzzled then smiled.

 

"If it pleases you."

 

"Sorry, bad joke." He blushed and she smiled again, very charmingly, cheeks pinking nicely.

 

"I am Caroline, your cook and head of the staff."

 

"My cook?  Not everyone in the house?"

 

"Young Mr. Winchester said that you had health…issues. And that I was to look after your needs as far as your diet went. He was so pleased when your…treatment was concluded and you were able to rejoin the household."

 

John carefully tasted the food; it was excellent so he dug in. Caroline seemed genuinely pleased that he was enjoying the breakfast.

 

"My treatment…for my health issues?"

 

"Yes sir, your hospitalization."

 

John read 'looney bin' in her expression. So Dean had covered his absence with some story about John being institutionalized, probably for drugs or alcohol, or maybe even another suicide attempt. Well, he had no-one to blame for that but himself. It also meant that they would be keeping a close watch on him. Can't let the big boss' crazy lover do himself in. That might make working this a little more difficult.

 

As John ate he watched her bustle around the room, the bed was rumpled beside John and he was sure that Dean had slept here with him, rising before John awoke. Caroline went to the closet and set out clothes on a wooden rack, jeans and a shirt then went to one of the dressers and pulled out underwear.

 

"Do you want me to draw you a bath or would you prefer a shower this morning?"

 

John frowned.

 

"I can run my own shower and shave. I've been doing it for a while now."

 

"There is an electric razor in the bathroom."

 

"I prefer…" but John stopped noting the grave expression on her face again.

 

"I'm sorry, John but Mr. Winchester was adamant. After your…incident in Las Vegas. No razor, no scissors and no knives of any kind."

 

John got the distinct impression that Caroline didn't like him very much, or at least had no sympathy for him. And on the surface he might have agreed; to all outsiders Dean worshipped the ground that his 'lover' walked on. Provided every thing for him.  In Vegas, John had actually over heard one of the Directors refer to him as, 'spoiled rotten.'  John knew that some of them actually believed that the lavish lifestyle and the apparent open affection Dean poured on him offset the occasional beating.

 

A wave of despair hit him at once and John pushed the tray to the side. He wouldn't let it overwhelm him this time. He'd be the perfect lover, lull Dean into a false sense of security. Make Dean believe that John was cowed by Bobby's death. In Vegas John had had Isabel and Mike, the chauffeur, but he didn’t think that here, wherever that was, he'd have many allies.

John had finished eating breakfast and was startled when the bedroom door swung open again. He took a deep breath to steady himself as Dean walked into the room. Caroline was still straightening the room and she paused turning to Dean as he walked in.

 

"Can I assist you in some way, Mr. Winchester?"

 

Dean offered her a cheery smile.

 

"No I just wanted to make sure that you had met John and to see if he was feeling better. He was exhausted when we arrived last night, weren't you, honey?"

 

John steeled himself, and then looked down trying to school his expression into something suitably submissive. Finally, he glanced up at Dean from under his lashes.

 

 "Yes, but I'm feeling much better, Dean," he whispered.

 

Dean grinned coming to the bed and sitting down beside his father. With a sly look he picked the tray up inspecting the contents and appeared satisfied that John wasn't going to try to starve himself.

 

"Good," Dean said, stroking his thumb over John's lips.

 

He leaned in kissing John gently. If Caroline was displeased by the open affection between the two men, she didn't show it. John glanced at her to see, her face was still beaming at Dean.

 

"When you're finished with breakfast I want you to get showered, and dressed. I'm going to take a few days off from work, and spend some time with you. I want to show you the house. I think you'll like it better than the penthouse in Vegas. And then we're going over to some friends' house for lunch."

 

Rising, Dean walked over to the clotheshorse where Caroline had laid out John's clothing for the day. He frowned. Picking up the shirt he went into the closet and selected another hanging it on the rack instead.  John rose from the bed wincing. Dean may have been able to heal the physical injuries from the beating he had given John the night before but the pain of abused and strained muscles remained.

 

When John headed to the bathroom Caroline hastily exited the room. Dean watched his father limp toward the archway leading into the master-bathroom. Before John could disappear into the side room Dean caught him by the waist pulling him around. John paused not looking up. Dean ran his fingers through John's hair tilting his father's head down to compensate for the inch in height that John had on the younger man. It had always annoyed Dean to no end that both his father and Sam were taller than him.

 

"You're going to be a good boy today aren't you, John? I wouldn't want to have a repeat of last night's performance so soon. I really don't want to make you suffer."

 

"Then let me go," John said quietly. "Why can't you just leave me alone? I'll give up hunting if that's what you want? Now that Bobby's…."

 

Dean slapped John across the face.

 

"I don't want to hear that hillbilly's name around here. I'm still a little upset that you'd actually spread your legs for him. You know I don't think you completely understand who you belong to, do you?"

 

Dean grabbed John by the arm hustling him to the bed. He shoved the older man down onto the soft surface and began stripping off his clothes. John shuddered, but he refused to struggle. When Dean was naked he climbed onto the bed, pulling John into his arms.

 

"Do you get it, John? This is what I want from you."

 

Dean leaned forward pressing his lips to his father's. John closed his eyes, and then relaxed letting Dean work his mouth open. The younger man's tongue delved inside, drawing John's tongue out. John grunted as Dean pushed him down stripping off his pajamas. Quickly Dean stretched across the bed to the nightstand, opening a drawer. He pulled a tube of lubricant out, squeezing a large dollop onto John's belly. With quick movements Dean worked the lube inside his father, stretching John's entrance. John forced himself to relax, let his body go limp.

 

With a vicious grin Dean dropped into the prone body beneath him, gripping John's hip tightly in one hand. He guided his cock to his father's hole, and slid in. Sighing Dean popped himself up on his elbows staring down at the other man. John didn't look away.

Dean pulled out and thrust in, leaning in he kissed John and the older man opened for him. When he saw that John wasn't going to struggle Dean cocked his head.

 

"So you're going to behave then, John? You're going to let me have my way with you? I want more than that…"

 

Dean slid his hand across the bed searching for John's hand. His fist was clenched at his side, and Dean grinned when he pulled John's hand and his fingers loosened.

 

"Jerk off for me. I want to see you touch yourself."

 

His chest jerked but John didn't flinch. His fingers curled around his cock, stroking pulling until he finally hardened. Dean grinned triumphantly as his father worked his own cock, fingers sliding up and down in rhythm to Dean's thrusts. Finally, John's eyes did close, his hand tightened and he uttered a brief harsh exhalation of breath. Dean felt the warmth of John's semen hitting his belly; he thrust in hard once, and came inside his father.

 

Panting Dean dropped down onto John's chest. He stroked the wiry hair under his cheek, pinching one dusky pink nipple between his thumb and forefinger. John grunted, flinching and Dean laughed.

 

"Still ticklish, Dad?" he said quietly.

 

John's breath caught in his chest. Dean's fingers worked into John's ribs, and the older man barked out an obscenity. He tried to roll away, but Dean caught him around the waist rolling them both onto their sides. John almost got away, but Dean was much stronger now, and manhandled him as if he was a child. The younger man slid am arm around John's waist, laughing into his ear, then seized the lobe in his teeth and bit down, gently. John flinched again.

 

Suddenly he froze as the bedroom door swung open and Caroline stood framed in the soft light of the outer corridor. Her eyes widened, and John cringed. He and Dean were naked and John was still covered in his own come. There couldn't possibly be any doubt about what they had been doing prior to her coming into the room. He prayed that Dean was not angered by the older lady's indiscretion. She froze unsure of whether to back up or move into the room. Dean causally flicked the bedcovers up, draping them over his and John's bodies. John was mortified, but Dean didn’t really seem to care.

 

"I….oh, please forgive me," she said and it was the first time John saw a break in her carefully controlled demeanor. Finally, Caroline managed to pull herself together. "Mr. Winchester, there is a call for you, Judge Watterson."

 

Dean nodded sitting up. "I'll take it here," he said.

 

She made a hasty exit as he slid out of the bed. Turning Dean slapped John on the ass.

 

"Get a shower, and get dressed."

 

 

John made it into the bathroom before collapsing against the wall. He was consumed by guilt and confusion, sick to his stomach and revolted by what he had just done, and yet torn by the periods of almost normalcy in his and Dean's interactions. Taking a deep breath he fought down the trembling until he could stand up. He knew that Dean was trying to break him, force him into taking the drugs Dean had kept him on in Vegas, but John wasn't going to do it. The only chance he had of getting out of this permanently, and making sure that Sam and his new girlfriend stayed safe was keeping his mind clear, focusing on the problem, working the case just as he would have any other hunt. Except he didn't have to sleep with the enemy in any other case.

 

 In so many ways John still saw his wonderful little boy in Dean's eyes, the tilt of his head, the dusting of freckles on his face. And yet just the idea that John had voluntarily masturbated in front of his son made him sick. He shook his head to clear it. In the two years he had been with Dean in Las Vegas he had done much worse.  Of course, he used to blame it on the drugs back then, even when he knew he had just given up. And the memories, although tempered by the drugs, were still clear enough. John remembered sucking Dean's cock in the backseat of the car, with Mike driving them somewhere.

 

He turned on the water, running it as hot as he could stand it then scrubbing his skin red with a wash cloth. Then he turned the water to cold. The frigid blast pulled an abbreviated shout from his lips, but he stood letting the water cascade over him. Finally, John pulled one of the thick, warm towels off the rack and rubbed at his skin. He felt cleaner, clear-headed and determined not to let Dean get the better of him no matter what.

 

The clothes on the rack were incredibly expensive, designer label stuff that he would have never been able to afford as a blue-collar working man. The underwear was silk, and he sighed again. Ivory colored and whisper soft, the sleeveless undershirt floating over his head skimming down the hard planes of his chest and back. He pulled the boxers on frowning at the slight curved slit cut up the sides. He felt like some kind of high class whore. But he supposed that was just how Dean wanted him to feel.

 

The jeans were tighter than he normally wore, but John prided himself on weighing no more than he had at twenty-five and worked his ass off to stay in shape. Truthfully they were probably cut for a man half his age, but he turned, looking at himself in the mirror. The acid-washed soft denim jeans wrapped around the curve of his ass just right. Not bad, if he did say so himself. 

 

Cocking his head John glanced at Dean's back as he sat at his writing desk blathering on the telephone. Well, two could play this game, and if Dean wanted people to see him as Dean's slightly older brainless bimbo of a lover then John was just going to make sure they did. Maybe he could piss Dean off enough that he would kill John himself.

 

He slid into the soft emerald green silk shirt, and smiled. Walking over to the desk he practiced his stroll, until he had an almost effortless glide going, with just a twist of the hips. John could remember Mary tutoring him on how a girl walked to catch a boy's attention, years ago. It would take a little time but John thought he could knock it out, and make it look real.

 

John settled on the bed and pulled on his sock and shoes, pegging the hem of the jeans over the expensive dress boots. He felt like a fool, but at least he was a well dressed fool.

Dean clicked off the phone and turned to survey his father sitting on the bed. He rose, grinning and moved over, holding out a hand. John let himself be pulled to his feet. He even obligingly turned in a circle when Dean raised his hand over John's head.

 

"Well, don't you look good enough to eat?" Dean said with a hiss.

 

With most lovers, not that John had had many, that wouldn't have caused John so much consternation. He shivered and Dean laughed.

 

"Not that I would mind you. Well, maybe not all of you…" Dean winked, sliding his hand down John's hip and cupping his dick through the fabric of the jeans. John rolled his eyes, and that set off another round of laughter. Dean tucked his father's hand into the crook of his elbow. "Let me get a quick shower and dress again then I want to introduce you to the staff, and show you your new home."

 

 

The house turned out to be huge, much larger than John had expected. It was one of those places that he had only been in on hunts, working for people who had looked down their noses at him, as if he was only a little bit better than the poltergeist, ghost, vengeful spirit or other piece of ectoplasmic trash littering their house.

 

It was decorated like the covers of those architectural digest magazines, pretty, sterile and without an ounce of human warmth. It might have been a museum for all the lived in feel of the place. John hated it in an instant. But he hung on Dean's arm memorizing the lay-out, looking the place over for blind spots, structural weaknesses in the load-bearing walls, and gaps in the security camera coverage.

 

After they had toured the entire place, which took forty-five minutes, Dean took him back to the main entry-way where a small group of people were gathered, He recognized Caroline, and she stepped forward smiling. Beside her and to the left were two younger women who turned out to be the maids. The women were human.  Kyle was there with several others all of whom John was sure were demons. Beside them was a man, perhaps forty, tall, slightly thinner than John with soft honey brown hair and deep blue eyes. He smiled at John and stepped forward.

 

"This is Dylan, your driver," Dean said.

 

John understood the unspoken 'body guard' that went with driver.

 

"He will go with you anytime you leave the house if I'm not with you. If we go together Kyle will drive us."

 

John nodded. His gaze lingered on Dylan's face just a fraction of a second too long before he caught himself and squeezed Dean's arm.

 

"This place is something."

 

Dean looked pleased.

 

"I knew you'd love it here. Everyone, this is John. Whatever he wants, within reason, he gets. I don't care if you have to send the helicopter to down to the city to get it. His word is law around here, do I make myself understood?"

 

John cocked his head at that, down to the city. He just had to figure out what city Dean was talking about. Before he could consider it Dean was pulling him out the door. John followed along with the big demon taking up a positing flanking them.

 

The car was a different Mercedes than the one they had used in Vegas, newer with more gadgets and gizmos and expensive as well. Dean seemed hell-bent on showing John just how much money he had, and it amused John. If Dean thought he could buy John like some gold digger he was sadly mistaken, but John looked suitably impressed and let Dean open the door for him.

 

 

The house they were driven to was not as large as the one Dean owned, but it was more to John's liking, if just for the long winding driveway and wide expanse of lush green lawn. He could see a small pond was in the center of a brick turn-out at the end of the driveway as Kyle pulled the car up. Kyle got out, opening the door for Dean, and John waited in the car until Dean came around and opened the door for him.

 

They were greeted at the door by a small middle-aged woman dressed in a uniform remarkably similar to the one that Caroline wore. She ushered them into the den where a tight knot of people were gathered around a bar. John surveyed them taking in three elderly men that were old enough to be his father. With two of the men were middle-aged women and the third woman who was probably no older than Dean. She was leaning on the arm of, probably, the oldest man of the three. Her bright red dress and over done make-up was an odd contrast to his somber charcoal gray suit and grim expression. Her laughter was just a little too bright and brittle sounding and John cast an annoyed glance at her. She noticed his look, and frowned, pulling a little away from the old man.

 

The three men greeted Dean warmly then smiled and shook hands with John just as if he had always been a part of their group. If anyone of them objected to the fact that, for all intents and purposes Dean and John were gay, they didn't give voice to it. In fact, the men tended to treat John as if he was Dean's wife. And it irritated him when he realized they were talking down to him as well as the three women.

 

 

The older man, John learned, was Judge Harold Watterson, Superior Court Judge for Essex County. John remembered driving through Essex County years ago and finally pin- pointed their location as upstate New York. He wondered how Dean had settled on New York, and then remembered that Winchester Inc. was actually head-quartered in New York City, and that it owned two large casinos in Atlantic City. Still Las Vegas to New York was a big jump. John began to think that things had not gone well in Vegas after the fire.

 

It turned out that the blond bimbo was Judge Watterson's twenty-nine year old wife, Terri. John smiled coldly as she took his hand flashing him a tight, grim smile. He couldn't quite keep the irrational irritation he felt for her out of his expression. The other people were Jack Carter and his wife, Lydia, and Pete Harrison and his fiancée, Marla Burke. John cocked his head.

 

"Ms. Burke, have we met before? You seem familiar."

 

She looked pleased and he felt that he had done something right.

 

"Maybe you've seen me on TV?"

 

John didn't watch TV, but he smiled.

 

"Of course, on…"

 

"The District Attorney," she jumped in before he could make an idiot of himself by not knowing the name of the show she was on.  He nodded even though he had never even heard of it.

 

Dean patted his arm.

 

"John, honey…I think we're ready to go out to the veranda for lunch."

 

John offered his arm to the woman; she giggled and tucked her hand in his elbow. Dean followed them out. Just as they got to the hall Terri Watterson corralled John and shooed Marla Burke on, Dean stepping up to take her hand. Terri rounded on John frowning and hissed at him.

 

"I don't know who the hell you think you are, but I don't appreciate the attitude, John. You've got some nerve for a forty year old man who lives off his younger boyfriend to look at me like I'm some kind of a whore. You can look down your nose at me all you want but don't forget you've gotten everything you have the same way I have…on your back."

 

John watched her flounce out of the room, shaking his head.

 

"Well, way to go John," he muttered to himself, "You're really making friends here."

 

Dean frowned at him when John and Terri finally got to the door. Terri slipped past Dean and he noticed she was red faced and scowling. Dean cornered John at the door forcing him back into the den while the others lined up at the buffet table. Judge Watterson was frowning in John and Dean's direction, and watching intently.

 

"What did you do to Terri? She looked upset," Dean snarled. "These people, especially Judge Watterson, are very important to me. You need to fall in line here John for the good of the company."

 

"I didn't do anything to her. She thought I was looking down on her for being married to a much older man and took it upon herself to remind me that I'm no better. I didn't even say anything. I don't even want to be here. These people are not my kind…"

 

Dean grabbed John's arm squeezing it until the older man cringed in pain.

 

"Well, they're my kind and you'd better get used to it. There's a big charity art sale coming up to benefit a local children's shelter and Terri and you are going to be organizing it."

 

"Dean, I don't know shit about art, or running some benefit. Just leave me out of it."

 

Dean whirled slapping John hard enough to split his lip. With a growl Dean quickly fished a handkerchief out of his pocket, and threw it to his father. 

 

"Watch your mouth, these people don't talk like that. Clean yourself up and get your ass out there."

 

John leaned against the wall watching as Dean walked easily out the door, dismissing him as if he didn't even exist. He pressed the cloth to his lip until the bleeding stopped but he could feel the tender flesh and knew the bruising would be obvious. The Watterson's housekeeper appeared beside him with a plastic bag of ice wrapped in a white bar towel.

 

She held it up to him.

 

"Here put this on it. It should help take down the swelling."

 

John was barely able to keep from cringing at the look of pity she gave him. He flushed, angry and embarrassed. Taking the ice he slipped out onto the veranda trying to stay out of sight. Terri Watterson had an evil gleam in her eyes when she came back to the door, and John knew she had seen Dean slap him. At that moment he had never hated Dean more.

 

Pete Harrison slid his arm around John's waist propelling him toward the bar.

 

"Come on, John; let's get you a little something to loosen up that stiff spine of yours."

 

Harrison was more than loose himself in the few minutes they had been outside, and John figured he had already had a good headstart on getting drunk long before he and Dean arrived. He smiled at the other man and didn't shrug off his arm, even when Dean looked pointedly at them. Harrison stepped up to the bar.

 

 "Bourbon and cola," he said to the bartender then glanced at John.

 

John looked around quickly to see what the others were drinking. Most of the men had glasses of whisky or bourbon but the women were drinking Margaritas. With a smile he glanced at the other man from under his eyelashes.

 

"I'll have a peach Margarita."

 

Harrison blinked then slid his hand from John's waist to his hip.

 

"Whatever you want, honey."

 

 

Dean cornered his father in the hallway on the way to the bathroom. His face was a dark mask of rage. With a grunt he grabbed John shoving him against the wall. John refused to flinch even though Dean was hurting him.

 

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Act normal."

 

John sneered.

 

"I am acting normal. Just like the rest of the wives and girlfriends."

 

Dean stepped back as if suddenly becoming aware of the fact that they were in somebody else's home.

 

"You're not my wife or my girlfriend. I want you to act like John Winchester."

 

"Well, I can't because John Winchester wouldn't roll over and let his little boy fuck him up the ass."

 

"I'm not your little boy anymore, Daddy. Don't ever forget that."

 

John closed his eyes drawing in a ragged breath.

 

"I used to think that, Dean. But sometimes I can almost see him in there, lurking, just under the surface. I have to believe that something of Dean still is in you. It's all I've got."

 

Dean blinked rocking back and John could see the confusion on his face. Then suddenly the demon smiled, eyes flashing with a cold gleam.

 

"Oh poor Johnny, still in love with the past. I want to fuck my father not some witless bimbo."

 

"Well you’re not going to get it, not again. If you don't like me this way either let me go or kill me. But John Winchester doesn't roll over that easy, not any more."

 

"You will, Johnny. Play your game for now. I'll fuck you as the stupid whore that you're playing. I still get what I want one way or another."

John stood in the auditorium of the community college looking at the various crates that the movers were hauling in from trucks parked in the lot. He sighed looking over the shipping labels stapled to a manifest. Terri Watterson was hustling back and forth collecting the labels and bringing them back to where John stood. In the past two months his relationship with Terri had changed dramatically from that first angry meeting.

 

When John had reluctantly showed up for the planning committee meeting the morning after his and Dean’s dinner at the Watterson’s house he had noticed that Terri was sullen and quiet. Once they finally got down to talking John could see the strained expression on her face every time she sat down. He understood that pain, knew from experience that she was hiding bruises under her clothes. When he offered her sympathy and not derision she had warmed to him considerably. They had found some common ground, even if it was only from being abused by their respective mates.

 

Checking his watch he waved the younger woman over. She plunked the last few labels down on the clipboard that John carried, smiling at him from under her wilting bangs. John grinned in return, pushing her hair away from her face and producing a bottle of diet Coke. She took it gratefully.

 

"Well," she said, "That's all the boxes. Now we've got to get this stuff set up and get the lighting done before the auction."

 

John sighed. "We're cutting it close. Why isn't Marla Burke here, she was at the planning meeting."

 

"I don't know, but its six fifteen. I'm calling it a day. Do you need a ride back to your place, John? I go right by there."

 

"No my driver is outside with the car. Poor guy's been working with the movers all afternoon. I'm just going to get washed up and hit the road myself. Dean's in the city so I'm spending a quiet might at home."

 

The one good thing that had come out of John’s apparent cooperation was the freedom Dean had given him. Dean had spent the first two weeks after he found John constantly keeping tabs on his father's whereabouts. But now Dean was gone, two or three nights a week, sometimes in New York, sometimes in Vegas.

 

"You can come over and spend a quiet night at home with me and Harry. He'd love the company, somebody to talk to."

 

Her face fell and John patted her shoulder.

 

"I don't have anything to talk about with Harry either. I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm some kind of a freak. He only tolerates me because I sleep with one of his high campaign contributors."

 

Terri shook her head.

 

"That's not true. He likes you. He's just worried about Dean's reaction to Pete Harrison, and his tendency to feel you up every time he's around you."

 

John laughed.

 

"Well, I don't worry about it. See you tomorrow."

 

Dylan was waiting at the car when John finally appeared. He smiled and opened the door. Once John was settled in the rear seat Dylan put the car in gear and pulled out of the parking lot. They turned onto the road headed back to the house when John leaned forward.

 

 "Dylan let's take the scenic route down Old Essex Road."

 

"Certainly Mr. Winchester," the other man said softly.

 

The car sped down the street and turned right onto an older, more sparsely built street. After a few minutes the buildings became more isolated until the road wound past unbroken landscaping. As they turned a bend in the road a large lake came into view. John leaned forward again, tapping the back of the seat.

 

"Pull into the park. I thought we might take a little walk around the lake."

 

Dylan pulled the car into the parking lot for the recreation center located on the south shore of the lake and parked in one of the shadowy spots beneath the hanging willow boughs. There were only a few more cars parked in the lot and no one in sight. The sun had set and John glanced at his watch.  It was only seven o'clock, still a couple of hours before Dean would call the house to talk to him. Dylan came around the car to the passenger side and opened the door.

 

Instead of helping John out he slid into the seat that John vacated pulling the door closed behind him. John turned to face the other man. Dylan reached out stroking John's cheek. John moved into his arms and Dylan pressed his lips to John's.  John groaned softly under his breath as the other man tugged his shirt out of his jeans. Dylan's hand stroked over John's back then popped the buttons on his fly. John shifted in the seat raising part way until Dylan could pull his jeans and underpants down.

 

Quickly John unsnapped the other man's trousers, pulling his fly apart until his fingers contacted the silky smooth skin of Dylan's hard cock. Dylan uttered a growl pushing John down onto the seat.

 

"Oh God, John. This is so good; I want to fuck you, please."

 

John pulled his mouth away from Dylan's throat.

 

"You can't; Dean would be able to tell. Here lay down on me."

 

Dylan slid down in the seat, pressing his knees between John's thighs, and then dropped down until his cock slid against the other man's. John moaned again. Dylan raised his hips up slightly, rocking, pressing their flesh together until John uttered a shout and came. Dylan's hips pumped in a steady rhythm until he spilled his seed over John's belly. They lay entwined together for a few moments until, reluctantly, Dylan sat up looking over the seat to be sure that no one was around. When he saw that the parking lot was empty he reached into the floor for tissues and wiped them both off.

 

Pulling his trousers up Dylan fastened his fly and pushed the door open. While the other man walked around the car and got into the driver's seat, John cleaned himself up as best he could then sat up.

 

 

Caroline offered John an odd look as he slipped quietly into the house, and headed upstairs immediately for a shower. She walked over to the door waiting for Dylan to come inside then corralled the younger man.

 

"Why are you so late? I know the gallery closed up at six-thirty, it's almost eight."

 

Dylan shrugged.

 

"Mr. Winchester wanted to take a walk at the recreation center by Lake Mead. You know he likes to exercise. He told me that the other Mr. Winchester usually called at nine, and we're here in plenty of time."

 

She sniffed shaking her head.

 

"You know how fond I am of the younger Mr. Winchester; I don't like him being disappointed. You will make sure that John is here on time every evening or I will speak to Mr. Winchester about these 'side trips' that you and John always seem to be taking."

 

Dylan frowned.

 

"What are you implying Caroline because I understand what my job is and I do it very well. I am supposed to drive John and make sure that nothing happens to him. I do that every single time we go out. He's always back here safe."

 

"I suppose…," she said softly then patted his arm."I'm sorry Dylan; I just know how much John means to Mr. Winchester.  It would destroy that young man if anything were to happen to him. Anything at all. I'm going to take John's dinner up to the bedroom; you can eat at the breakfast table."

 

Caroline pushed the teacart out of the service elevator and headed down the corridor to the master bedroom. She knocked on the door and John's voice beckoned her in. Caroline pushed the cart over to the bed just as the phone rang. John hurriedly answered. The smooth voice on the other end sent a chill down his spine but he smiled for his audience although she was pretending not to be listening.

 

"Dean, how's the city?" John said tucking the phone under his cheek and motioning for Caroline to put the tray on the writing desk beside the phone. "Are you coming home tonight? Oh, tomorrow, of course I miss you. No, I'm keeping pretty busy. Terri Watterson and I took delivery on all the items for the art auction so I'm going to be at the community college most of this week. Dylan is driving me, so don't worry. He took me to the park today at Lake Mead just to hike the trails, no we're careful and I know he has a gun."

 

John settled into the chair as the older lady lifted the cover on his tray and carefully unfolded his napkin into his lap. John smiled at her, nodding his thanks then focused on the conversation. Out of the corner of his eye John could see Caroline cock her head when Dean's voice carried over the line.

 

"I have to go. I'll be home tomorrow at dinner time. I love you, baby."

 

John blushed but his hand clenched around the crumpled napkin in his fist.

 

"I love you too, Dean."

 

As Caroline started to leave John called to her, and she paused at the door.

 

"Caroline, I want to have something special for dinner tomorrow since Dean's been away for a few days. He's particularly fond of that tarragon salmon you made last week. I'd like to serve that and pick up a bottle of good white wine to go with it."

 

She nodded.

 

"I'll go to the grocer in the morning. Would you care for anything else?"

 

Shaking his head John turned his attention to eating dinner. He watched as Caroline disappeared down the hall way. After he finished John settled down on the bed, clicking on the TV. The first news report caught his attention. Winchester Inc. was featured in the story and Dean's face splashed on the screen. John took a deep breath, and then quickly flicked the television off. He rose, looking out of the sliding glass doors to his private balcony.

 

Dylan's rooms were over the garage. The small apartment could be reached by crossing the back yard and going up the stairs on the side of the garage itself. The backyard was dark, but John didn't dare turn on the lights or carry a flashlight. He knew that Caroline watched every move he made and he was sure that she would tell Dean in an instant.

John wasn't concerned for himself, he had long since despaired that Dean would kill him. But he was fearful for Dylan's safety.

 

He slipped up the stairs to the landing outside the door to the garage apartment. Knocking gently he waited until the other man opened the door. Dylan frowned when he saw who was standing outside his door, but quickly ushered the other man inside.

 

"John, you shouldn't be here. You know Caroline snoops into everything that goes on in the household."

 

"I know, but I told her I wanted a special meal prepared for Dean when he get's in tomorrow. It'll keep her busy; she really puts so much effort in making sure she pleases him. I don't think she'll come out of the kitchen until she's inventoried the pantry to make sure she doesn’t need anything when she goes to the grocery store in the morning. I just wanted to be with you for a while tonight. I don't know when he’ll go back to the city again and we have to be really careful when he's here."

 

Dylan sighed.

 

"We could take off, just go somewhere. I know he hits you. John, I love you, why don’t we just leave?"

 

John sat down on a chair shaking his head.

 

"He'd just come after me. I wasn't in an institution even though he tells people that. I ran away before, and he just came after me. He killed the man I was with, and he'd kill you, too."

 

With a frown Dylan settled on the floor at John's feet, taking his hand.

 

"How does he get away with it? I know he has money, but he seems to have a lot of power too. How he can he just kill people?"

 

"You wouldn't understand, even if I told you. I don't think that you'd believe me. I don't want to talk about him. I just want to make love."

 

Caroline walked down the driveway reading through her grocery list. She moved around the side of the house toward the garage. With a frown she realized that she had forgotten her key to the small door that lead into the storage area behind the kitchen. With a sigh she stood at the door tapping her foot impatiently. Suddenly a movement on the stairs beside the garage caught her attention. John was standing at the door to Dylan's rooms. He knocked softly and Dylan opened the door. John disappeared inside. With an outraged glare the woman stomped up the driveway to the house.

 

 

Dean lay on a massage table in the warmly lit penthouse suite of the Four Seasons. Kyle was behind the bar mixing whisky and cola while staring at the tits on the masseuse rubbing oil over his boss's back. Her long slender fingers dug into the muscles of Dean's shoulders and he hissed in pain. With a snicker the woman stroked her hands down the solid plane of his back then tapped him on the hip.

 

"Okay, Mr. Winchester, turn over."

 

Dean rolled onto one elbow taking the heavy crystal glass that the big demon pressed into his hand. Taking a sip of the drink Dean closed his eyes.

 

"Ah, yeah, that does the trick. You're one hell of a bartender Kyle."

 

Dean winked at the girl and she giggled.

 

"For a demon."

 

Kyle roared in laughter.

 

"Thanks boss, you're a card."

 

"Did you know that, honey?" Dean asked the girl and she paused in massaging his chest. "Kyle is a demon. You know, bat out of hell and all that shit?"

 

"I don't understand," she said with a frown, and Dean laughed smoothly. With a wink he placed the glass on the edge of the table then looked down at the girl's long slender fingers as they stroked over his skin.

 

"A little bit lower, honey," Dean said with a smile. The girl's fingers dipped lower sliding over the hard ridges of his abdomen. "A little lower…"

 

Flushing she worked her hand under the sheet covering his lower body, kneading the solid length of his cock. He leaned back on the pillow grunting.

 

"Yeah that's it."

 

She worked him until Dean stiffened, coming over her hand. Kyle stood back against the bar watching his boss get a hand job from the bitch. As soon as Dean shot his load the big demon moved in and Dean nodded.

 

"Take…what's your name honey?"

 

"Misty," she stammered.

 

Dean smiled at her patting her on the arm. He turned to Kyle motioning the demon over.

 

"Take Misty here over to meet the other boys in the back room. I'm sure that it's about dinner time, and they must be starving."

 

Kyle nodded eyes gleaming.

 

"Sure thing boss, you coming?"

 

"Already did, Kyle my man. No, I promised the better half, I'd cut down on my between meal snacks. You and the boys enjoy, and feel free to ask for a little treat before dinner. Misty here has magic fingers, don't you sweetheart?"

 

"I don't understand, Mr. Winchester," Misty said, with a slight frown.

 

Dean shooed her away and she followed the big demon out of the room and into the corridor to the rear bedroom.

 

 

Later that night when the rooms were dark, the building custodian walked the halls emptying the trash receptacles that the guests set outside the door. The penthouse suite had a large green non-regulation container outside the door, as usual. Fred shook his head, he didn't know what those rich people did that left so much garbage, but it really stank.  He lifted the black heavy duty bags out of the bin, and tossed them into the cart to be taken to the incinerator. The bags were always triple wrapped and knotted so that he couldn't get them open, but considering the way they smelled he probably wouldn't want to anyway. He carefully pulled the envelope taped to the side of the trashcan off, opening it up. A couple of crisp hundreds were folded neatly inside, and Fred pocketed the cash. He decided that he really didn't care what Winchester was throwing out, as long as the money kept coming.

 

 

It was six o'clock the next evening when Dean's car pulled up into the driveway. Caroline looked out of the kitchen window, watching as the young man, who was her employer, got out of his car, speaking briefly to the big man who seemed to be his constant companion and walked to the front door.

 

She glanced over her shoulder at John, who was on the phone with Terri Watterson, then hurried to meet Dean at the door. Quickly she opened the door and took his jacket and briefcase as he stepped inside. Dean glanced around the front room then spotted his father on the telephone at the desk in the corner. John looked up smiling at the younger man.

Caroline stepped forward trying to intercept Dean before he could go into the living room, but he gently brushed her aside.

 

"Mr. Winchester," she said stridently but he shook his head, motioning for her to wait.

 

With a grimace Caroline surrendered. Once Dean got John in his sight everything else faded from view. She sighed, she knew that John was carrying on with Dylan, at least she was pretty certain of it, but she also knew that she had to be careful how she approached Mr. Winchester about it. He was so besotted with the older man that she was sure he would take the news very badly. And as much as she cared for Dean Winchester she knew his reputation as a stone cold bastard, and also knew it was well deserved.

 

Dean hurried into the room, catching John by the waist and swinging him around. John pulled away a little trying to keep the phone to his mouth when Dean leaned in and bit him gently on the neck. Flinching he smiled.

 

"Terri, I have to go. Dean just got in from the city and he's in the process of sexually assaulting me."

 

Dean grinned and he could hear the woman's giggles clearly over the line. She told John to enjoy being assaulted and to call her back later. John dropped the phone on the cradle and leaned back into Dean's arms. Closing his eyes he tried to call up an image of Dylan from last night and leaned in letting Dean ravish his mouth. Caroline stood at the doorway watching as Dean smothered his lover with kisses then sighed again. There would be no talking to him that night.

 

Gasping John leaned back.

 

"Caroline is dinner ready?"

 

"Yes, John. I can have it served in ten minutes," she replied, sullenly.

 

Dean spared her a glance as he tugged John toward the stairs to the upper floor. Looking back over his shoulder he caught the woman's eye.

 

"Keep it warm for us. We'll be down in a bit."

 

Dean hustled John to the bedroom, and then pulled the door closed behind them. Quickly he tugged John's shirt out of his jeans and tossed it into the corner. With a grin Dean began stripping off his suit, throwing clothes over his shoulder as he watched John stripping, appreciatively.

 

Pushing John onto the bed Dean crawled up beside him, laying a line of quick kisses across his chest and them nibbling at the joint of his neck and shoulder. John shivered, and Dean grinned against his father's warm flesh.

 

"I missed you terribly when I was away. Did you miss me?"

 

John uttered a brief sigh letting his eyes slip closed.

 

"I thought about you a lot."

 

Dean paused, cocking his head, not sure of what to make of the remark, then finally deciding that it was as close to an admission of love as he was going to get. John was warm and pliant in his arms and Dean wasn't going to destroy the mood by being overly critical. Instead he kissed his way down the older man's chest to his groin. Taking John's cock into his mouth he tongued the slit, lapping at the drops of clear fluid gathering on the tip. When John was hard, gasping and writhing beneath him, Dean coated his fingers with spit and pushed them inside. John parted easily for him, relaxing against the bed sheets with a whispered sigh.

 

Dean rose up onto his knees and pressed his aching cock into the other man, grunting when he breached the tight entrance and slid inside. He pulled out and thrust in, groaning in pleasure. He set a steady rhythm working John's cock with one hand, in counterpoint to his thrusts. John came first, moaning Dean's name. His father's deep rumble sent a shiver running down Dean's spine and he erupted deep inside his father's body.

 

In the end, Dean called Caroline up to the bedroom with their dinner and she frowned at John as she pushed the wooden teacart inside. John lay in the bed half asleep draped in the heavy brocade duvet. She could tell that he was naked beneath, and could still smell the musky scent in the air. Caroline had long grown used to the fact that Dean didn't care what anyone thought of him or his actions, and was used to coming into the room after he and John had had sex. Still, she was a little offended by the fact that they often ruined the expensive bed sheets with food, and was sure that the chocolate cake was going to end up in places that cake was never meant to be.

 

 

John was all but out when Caroline came back to collect the dishes. She tried to avoid looking at the tell-tale streaks of chocolate on the sheets opting instead to just collect the trays and take them away. Dean was dressed in boxers and a t-shirt sitting at the writing desk, but John hadn't bothered to get out of bed.

 

John rolled over rifling through the nightstand drawer for the remote to the tv when Dean rose seating himself on the end of the bed. John yawned.

 

"Dean, are you okay?"

 

"Yeah, I spoke to Sammy today," Dean said, watching carefully as John bolted upright in the bed.  "I told him we were back together again. He was very concerned for you, so I said I’d have you give him a call tomorrow. We're going to fly out to California, apparently little Sammy is getting married."

 

John swallowed his fear.

 

"I know, I mean he told me that he might ask her, but I haven't had a chance to speak to him lately."

 

"I explained that you were here with me, and we're going to be one big happy family," Dean smiled, "Aren't we going to be one big happy family, John?"

 

"I don't know how, I've met Jessica before. She knows that I'm Sam's father. How can you explain that you're Sam's brother without her getting suspicious?"

 

"Oh, that's taken care of.  I had a friend do a little re-programming in dear little Jess's head. She remembers meeting us, Sam's brother and his loving partner. Sam was a little upset, but it was for the best. Considering the alternative."

 

"The alternative," John echoed.

 

He crawled across the bed, coming up behind Dean. Leaning against the younger man's back John wrapped his arms around Dean's waist.

 

"Please, Dean…don't do anything to her. Sam really loves this girl. She means the world to him."

 

"Of course I won’t, since you asked so nicely, John. Say that you love me."

 

John winced.

 

"You know that I love you Dean. I have all your life."

 

"That's not what I want, John. Tell me you love me, just the way you used to say it to Bobby."

 

Flinching John took a deep breath, he closed his eyes and leaned in to Dean whispering.

 

"I love you, Dean."

 

Smiling triumphantly Dean kissed John's lips.

 

"Let's get some sleep. We have a plane to catch in the morning."

The plane was a Boeing 747, the biggest plane John had ever flown in. He cast a sideways glance over at Dean, smiling when he noted the grim expression on the younger man’s face. Apparently being made into a nearly immortal extremely powerful human-demon hybrid still hadn’t conquered Dean’s fear of flying. He put on a good show though.

 

Of course, they flew first class; Dean, John and Kyle. The big demon settled into his seat across the aisle from Dean, John leaning against the window. He watched as the flight attendant moved from passenger to passenger answering questions. She stopped by Kyle’s seat and the big demon leered asking for whiskey.

 

With a grimace the young woman turned to Dean bending forward just enough to let the vee-neck of her shirt gape open. John rolled his eyes. Apparently Dean caught sight of the gesture and winked. Without a sparing the attendant a glance he leaned over and kissed John on the mouth. The woman jerked noticeably then narrowed her eyes. John shot her a triumphant glare and asked for whiskey and cola.

 

Dean grinned at John then motioned the flight attendant over.

 

“My partner would like a blanket, please.”

 

She shot John a cold glance then smiled at the younger man.

 

“Certainly sir.”

 

Draping the blanket over both of them Dean reached up and flicked off the overhead lights. Once the passengers were secured and the flight attendants had given their pre-takeoff safety lecture they settled into seats at the rear of the first class cabin.

 

The take off was smooth, unremarkable but even so John still watched Dean out of the corner of his eye. Dean was gripping his hand hard enough to hurt. John winced a little and Dean immediately released him. With a smile the younger man waited until the seatbelt sign was off and eased his seat back into reclining position. He motioned for John to do the same.

 

A couple more whisky and cokes and John was feeling relaxed and sleepy. Sliding down in the seat he let his eyes drift closed. Dean rolled onto his side and slid a hand under the blanket and up John’s thigh. The older man jumped when he felt his son’s fingers on the zipper of his trousers. He cast a glance at the woman in the aisle but she was busy with the other passengers and paid them no attention.  John jumped again when Dean eased his dick out of his pants.  He had to bite his lower lip when the younger man set a furious rhythm. Embarrassed and afraid that they would get caught John took a deep breath, and then grunted. It took less than five minutes before he was coming all over Dean’s hand.

 

With a sly grin Dean wiped his hand on the blanket then pulled John’s hand to his own lap. Eyes wide John looked around and worked the fly open on Dean’s pants. Dean was warm, already hard and it took John a few minutes to work out the logistics of getting him out of his clothes. John froze when the flight attendant shot him a funny look; and he was sure she knew exactly what he was doing.

 

She ducked around the corner into the galley and caught the other attendant by the arm. With a smirk she whispered,

 

“Sally you aren’t going to believe it. The young guy in Eleven B just gave his boyfriend a hand-job and now the boyfriend is returning the favor.”

 

“Oh, yeah, it happens all the time.  Are you going to turn them into the captain?”

 

“Hell no, I’m hoping that since no one is close to them, the older guy blows the younger one. It’d be so hot.”

 

Dean’s eyes were at half-mast when she walked the aisle again, and then began serving drinks holding off asking them until last. She was just about to get to their seats when Kyle distracted her by asking for more ice. He watched her flounce away and grinned. Dean rolled onto his side and leaned in close to John.

 

“I want to come in your mouth.”

 

John blinked, looked over his shoulder and scooted down in the seat. He pushed the blanket back just enough to bare the head of Dean’s cock, and slid his mouth over the glistening tip. Dean jerked in his seat, and John swallowed the mouthful of bitter liquid quickly. Panting Dean pulled John up and kissed him, licking the inside of his mouth to taste himself on his father’s lips.

 

The two flight attendants glanced at each other grinning.

 

“Holy crap, did you see that?” Sally asked, grinning. “I think my panties are soaked.”

 

Licking her lips she walked causally down isle and leaned over.

 

"Gentlemen we're getting ready to serve lunch, if you'll please put your seats in the upright position."

 

 

John flushed when she winked at him. He glanced over at Dean only to see the younger man grinning from ear to ear. He looked her up and down, then made a motion behind her back leaning across the isle to slap Kyle on the arm. Sally pretended not to notice. Dean looked over his shoulder at his father. "Should we do her, you and me? You can be in the middle."

 

Shaking his head John blanched; Dean shrugged but didn't look angry.

 

"That's okay. I wouldn't want to share you anyway. You do understand that John, if I ever find out that someone is dipping his hand in my cookie jar it could get nasty. You will keep that in mind."

 

"Of course, I wouldn't want that to happen. I wouldn't want to be responsible for someone getting hurt. You won't find out that anything like that is happening."

 

John smiled smoothly at Dean, and the younger man frowned.

 

"Don't get clever with me, John. You understand what I mean. And just for your information, if I ever do find out that you should choose to do something as unfortunate as that. I'd make you watch while my boys fed on his flesh. And you'd have trouble sitting down for a month because I just might decide that if you want to be fucked that much that Kyle and the boys could give you what you want."

 

With a grimace John slid back in his seat watching as the flight attendant pulled the tray table down and helped him get settled for lunch. Looking over at Dean he waited until she had moved on then said,

 

"I mean it Dean. Nothing like that is going to happen."

 

When they arrived at the hotel, John saw the familiar figure of his younger son standing in the lobby. Beside him was Jessica, pretty and blond and so much like Mary that it made John’s breath catch in his chest every time he saw her. Dean came around to the side of the car and opened John’s door for him.

 

Sam looked at his father and then at Dean before motioning Jessica forward. She leaned forward hugging John and he clasped her to him.

 

“Oh John, it’s so good to see you again.”

 

John watched in silence as she also hugged Dean as if she had always known him, although John knew that they had never met before. Chattering happily Jessica took Sam’s arm as they led the way into the lobby.

 

John glanced at Sam; something was off in his stance. There was a distinct uneasiness to his younger son that troubled John. Still, this thing with his brother must have really knocked Sam for a loop, considering that he and John had believed Dean dead. John followed along behind Sam and Jessica not sparing a glance at the demon behind them.

 

They ate dinner in the dining room, sitting at a choice table near the indoor fountain. John watched as the synchronized water spouts danced and whirled. He felt far too nervous. Jessica was every bit as warm and loving as he remembered, but the idea that Dean had tampered with her memories chilled John to the bone. Would she even believe him if he told her? John was sure that Sam must have known, or had Dean ‘fixed’ his memories as well.

 

“How are your classes going Sam?” John asked, waiting to see how his younger son addressed him. Sam glanced up smiling.

 

“Just fine, John,” he replied smoothly and the older man wasn’t sure if that was a sign that Dean had done something to him or just for Jessica’s benefit. He desperately wanted to mention Bobby but was terrified of making Dean angry. John had long since stopped caring what Dean did to him, but now he had Sam and Jessica to think about.

 

Dean led them to a three room suite on one of the upper floors. Sam carried his and Jessica’s bags into one of the bedroom while Kyle took Dean and John’s luggage. Jessica smiled as she looked over the suite.

 

“I’ve been past the Westin all my life, and I never thought that I would ever be staying in one of the fanciest suites.”

 

Sam nodded at his brother.

 

“Well, Dean here is the master money maker in the family,” Sam said stiffly.

 

John glanced at him still unsure. Dean had always been easy for John to read anyway, but Sam was more of mystery. Jessica ran to her soon-to-be brother-in-law and gave him a big hug. Dean chuckled. Turning to John she said,

 

“So Dean runs the business, what do you do John?”

 

Dean smiled sitting down on the arm of the sofa he pulled John against his side.

 

“John does a lot of charity work. And he keeps me sane.”

 

“I don’t think I do much for your sanity,” John said blandly.

 

Dean offered him a cold grin.

 

“Oh John, you have no idea what I’d be like without your tempering presence.”

 

John shuddered and Jessica frowned at them. But Sam quickly stood up taking her by the hand.

 

“Come on lets go look at the bedroom, sweetie,” he said, winking.

 

Dean chuckled.

 

“Good idea, I think John and I are going to take a little nap before dinner.”

 

The sheets were cold against the bare skin of his back, and John wriggled. Dean’s hands were on his hips, holding him in place and he desperately wanted to move. His teeth were clenched, head thrown back. Dean’s knees were pressed against the inside of John’s shins as his head bobbed over his father’s groin. John took a deep breath, panting out his son’s name. Dean grinned around the hard flesh in his mouth.  He pulled back blowing cool air over John’s hard cock. The length of flesh jumped leaking a copious stream of pre-come.

 

“Please, Dean…please,” John whispered.

 

Dean swallowed him down to the root, and John cried out. He watched Dean’s throat tremble as he swallowed every drop that John had to offer.

 

Wiping his lips on the back of his hand Dean rose smoothly settling on John’s belly. John was half-hard, body limp with his orgasm. Dean thrust against his father’s hard abdomen then moved around tugging until John slid down on the bed. Rolling onto his side he watched as John took Dean’s length into his mouth. John took a deep breath and relaxed his throat. He had gotten good at this in the past few years, even though it was not something that he had done with any other man, Bobby included. He stilled, concentrating on breathing through his nose as Dean fucked his throat. Finally, with a long shuddering moan Dean pulled back, and came all over John’s face.

 

John lay beside the younger man, waiting until he was sure that Dean had dozed off before slipping out of the bed. He walked to his discarded clothes and fished his cell-phone out of a pocket. Pulling the door closed behind him he punched in Dylan’s private number.

 

The other man answered sounding weary and John looked at his watch it was six o’clock California time so it was nine in the evening in New York. Taking a deep breath John glanced at the partially closed door.

 

“Dylan, I just wanted to call you. Look things have to be different when I get back. No more trips to the lake, no more ‘walks’ in the afternoon. I think someone said something to Dean.”

 

Dylan’s voice was low and bitter on the other end. John pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

 

“No it can’t be. I was stupid for doing it in the first place. I can’t take the chance that you’ll get hurt. Please don’t make it any harder than it has to be. I’ll ask Dean to reassign you if you want, I’ll tell him we don’t get along. No, he doesn’t have any real proof, and he isn’t going to get any either. No Dylan, it’s over.”

 

Satisfied John closed the phone dropping it gently on the counter and turned on the shower. He stood under the hot water for a long time, trembling with unspent fury.

After a while he became aware of movement in the other room, and then the door swung open.

 

Glancing at the phone on the counter Dean picked it up, checking the last number John called. He glared at the older man behind his back. Schooling his features into something suitably bland Dean pulled the shower curtain open and stepped inside behind John.

 

Later that night while John lay asleep in the bed, Dean paced the bedroom floor. Finally, he made a decision. Pulling on a robe he picked up John’s phone and walked out into the living room.  It was almost two a.m. in New York but he knew the other man would answer. Lowering his voice he whispered into the phone,

 

“Dylan, please catch the next flight you can to LAX, I’ll have a car meet you. Dean found out about us and he beat me. I want to leave, please come and get me.”

 

He clicked off the phone before the other man could question him then smiled. When he climbed back into bed John rolled onto one side, leaning against the younger man. Dean stroked his shoulder, soothingly.

 

They spent the next day doing ‘tourist’ stuff; Hollywood, Little Tokyo, and Chinatown. Jessica and Sam huddled together exchanging quick kisses, and John smiled at them. Dean and he were more reserved in public but Dean did manage to talk John into a quick kiss at the fountain in front of the Golden Dragon Restaurant as was customary. They ate too much and drank a little too much, and probably bothered more people than they should have but for the first time in years John felt good. He had both sons around him, and even if he didn’t hear the word Dad, he could almost pretend things were normal.

 

It was almost midnight when they got back to the Westin in LA. Jessica tugged her shoes off in the lobby and leaned against the wall waiting for the elevator. When John started to follow her inside Dean gently held his father back.

 

“Why don’t you go on up, Jess? We’re going to have a little boy’s night out last drink,” he said with a smile.

 

Yawning she leaned forward and Sam kissed her chastely on the cheek.

 

Sam followed Dean and their father to a dark corridor behind the bar in the dining area to a private room. John looked at the vast expanse of the empty banquet facility then turned.

 

 “I don’t understand.”

 

Dean grabbed his arm hustling him inside.

 

“You will, John. Believe me you will.”

 

Terrified John turned to his younger son.

 

“Sammy don’t let him do this…” he gasped then recoiled as Sam’s eyes flashed to solid black.

 

Dean smiled as Sam came to stand by his older brother. John gaped.

 

"What did you do, Dean? You promised me that you'd keep Sam out of this."

 

"This isn't my doing, John. This is Sam's fate. You weren't wrong. You just didn’t count on what fate would do to make sure that I protected Sam until it was his time. He's going to be a lawyer for Winchester Inc. and then, in good time, a judge and finally, he's going to be president of the United States. The most powerful man on Earth. And then things will really change."

 

"No, Dean," John said backing away. 

 

Dean grabbed his arm, and Sam smiled at his father.

 

"It almost happened once before, John. It was all set, but you and your kind interfered. We had it all; the youngest U.S. President, a beautiful wife and lovely family. Camelot in real life.  And one hunter destroyed it all. This time you won't get in the way. You John, my love, are the last of a dead breed. This time there won't be a grassy knoll, no lone gunman. This time it'll be finished,” Dean hissed.

 

Dragging John along Dean moved to the other side of the room.

 

"Now we take care of one more problem. John you really need to understand that I don't share my toys."

 

Kyle and another demon that John didn't know were holding Dylan between them. He didn't struggle and John was wary of going up to them. He desperately didn't want Dean getting the idea that he and Dylan were still involved. John had cut those ties.

 

Turning to Dean, John grabbed his son by the hand.

 

"Please Dean, don't do this. There is nothing going on between us."

 

"But there was, wasn't there, John? Don't you get it? I don't share. Did you let him fuck you?" 

 

John cast a glance at the other man, but Dean grabbed his arm shaking John roughly.

 

"No! He didn't, I wouldn't do that. I knew that you'd be able to tell, so we just used our hands. Dean, please it was only a few times. You were spending a lot of time in the city and I was just lonely."

 

Narrowing his eyes Dean shoved John.

 

"So you want me to just let it go? Ignore it all? Really John, for a favor like this you should be on your knees."

 

John glanced at the demons gathered around, at Sam standing perfectly still, black eyes flashing in the low lights. He shook his head.

 

"Dean, don't make me beg. Not in front of them. Send them out; I'll do whatever you want."

 

"No, you don't understand, John. You messed around when you shouldn't have. Ask me, on your knees."

 

Chest heavy, John dropped to his knees at Dean's feet.

 

"Please Dean, don't kill him."

 

"See?  Wasn't that easy. I don't have any intention of killing Dylan, John," Dean said, with a smile.

 

He motioned to Kyle who picked up a pair of tin cutters from the table. At Dean's grunted command the big demon walked over to where to two others held the man. They dragged Dylan down on the ground tugging his trousers and underpants down. Kyle leaned forward with the tin cutters looking up at his boss. Dean nodded and Dylan screamed.

 

John jerked against Dean's hands. But the younger man's grip was like iron. He held John against his body while the demon emasculated the other man. Dylan was still writhing in agony when Kyle picked up a mass of bloody flesh from the ground and dropped it in his hand. Dean sneered.

 

"Don't let him bleed to death. See John, he won't die. At least not from this. The question is whether or not he'll want to live like that. Doctors might be able to repair some of the damage, at least give him some physical semblance of being a man but he won't fuck you, or anyone else ever again."

 

Kyle grinned, sealing the leaking arteries and veins in Dylan's flesh, stopping the bleeding. He rose smoothly pulling a gun out of his pocket. With a shrug he dropped the weapon into the human's outstretched palm.

 

"Boss, you sure about this?"

 

"Oh yeah.  Dylan you can live the way you are or you can take the man's way out. Up to you buddy,” Dean said smiling broadly.

 

Dylan raised his head staring down at his mutilated flesh.

 

"No Dylan, don't do it! God please, I'm so sorry," John shouted.

 

Dylan gripped the butt of the pistol in his hand and raised it. John jerked against Dean's grasp.

 

"Kill Dean."

 

Levering himself up Dylan raised the gun then tucked it under his chin and pulled the trigger. Blood sprayed the wall behind him and John cried out. He jerked free of Dean's grasp then ran to the body of his former lover. Bending over he picked up the gun and whirled. With a snarl John fired every round in the clip at Dean. Some of them hit, some of them didn't. He didn't bother waiting to see what happened.

 

John ran out the door, down the corridor and into a large banquet room. He slid around a corner and came out into a hallway. At the far end of the hall was a large double door leading out into the parking lot.

 

John had just about made it to the door when a figure stepped out from the shadows. John jerked to a halt. His face broke in a wide grin.

 

"Oh my god, Bobby. I thought you were dead. The last I saw of you the demons had you."

 

John launched himself at the other man, but Bobby merely stood motionless. John backed up a few steps.

 

"Bobby?"

 

Suddenly Bobby lifted his hand and John could see he had a cell phone clasped in his thick fingers. Turning toward the door he flipped the phone a pushed a button.

 

"I have him, Boss."

 

Shuddering John backed away, and Bobby smiled at him, his eyes flashing amber in the dim lighting. John whirled trying to flee but he was caught from behind. Bobby's strong arms wrapped around him jerking John up the corridor and back into the banquet room.

 

Dean, Sam and Kyle were waiting in the room as Bobby dragged John in. Dean grinned, clapping the older man on the shoulder and Bobby nodded.

 

"He was making a break for the parking lot."

 

"That's okay, Bobby. John had a little shock, but we're going to settle him down for good."

 

Dean turned on John slapping him across the face. John spun around and Kyle pushed him back toward Dean. With a vicious grin Dean grabbed his father's arm then slammed a fist into his stomach. John doubled over, dropping onto one knee. Dean punched him in the face splitting his lip, blood splattered down the front of John's shirt.

 

"I think that you need to understand your place John. Just what you’re good for. So me and the boys are going to teach you exactly what you are…my whore."

 

Dean flung John over on his back, ripping his shirt. His slender fingers tugged the zipper on his father's jeans. Once he had John stripped he slid his hand down and unfastened his own trousers. Pushing John down, Dean forced his knees between his father's legs and shoved his dripping cock into John. The older man screamed trying to claw his way across the floor. Dean slammed his fist against John's cheek and he was still. When Dean was finished he rose motioning to Sam. John whimpered when his younger son bent over him.

 

"Sammy, please don't do this to Daddy."

 

"Hush John, you really need to learn your place in the world. You'll never forget what you are or who you belong to after tonight, will you?"

 

Sam grunted when he forced his way into his father's body. John moaned, but lay still, too stunned to move.

 

After Sam was finished, Bobby took John making sure to use every ounce of strength he could muster when he forced his way into the younger man’s body. John writhed under the older man gasping,

 

“Please Bobby…don’t. You’re hurting me.”

 

“Serves you right for being such a slut, Johnny. Consider this one for old time’s sake. Just remember who you belong to in the future.”

 

 Finally, the big demon took his reward. John gasped weakly and Kyle rolled him onto his stomach. He looked up at Dean who nodded. The blood made it easier, but the big demon took no pleasure in the act. It was just one more job. Besides, he preferred them still conscious, or at least still moving.  John lay like a dead thing beneath him. When the four men were finally done with him, John lay staring at the bright lights of the ceiling, body lax.

 

 

Two months later….

 

Doctor Harper walked into the room at the Winchester house. He glanced at the monitors surrounding the still figure on the bed. The patient had been bathed and shaved as usual. The doctor checked his vitals and looked at the feeding tube in his stomach. The stoma was clean, no signs of infection. It was a shame that he was catatonic; John Winchester was truly a good looking man. When he had been told what happened to Dean Winchester's partner the good doctor had been horrified.

 

John's eyes were open, which was often the case, and he lay slightly on one side staring out of the window. Doctor Harper patted the younger man's arm.

 

"Well, John…"

 

A voice, harsh and cracked, replied,

 

"Yes."

 

The doctor pulled to a halt.

 

"John, did you say something?"

 

"Yes," John said turning his head.

 

He glanced down at the IV shunt in his arm, and the thick leather straps crossing each wrist and ankle, the thicker strap across his chest.

 

"Where am I?"

 

"Oh, god. I've got to call Dean."

 

"Dean," John said wearily. "Who is that?"

 

"Your husband, partner…You've been ill John, very ill."

 

"Why have I been ill? Why am I restrained, am I crazy?" John asked quietly.

 

The doctor looked torn then decided.

 

"You have been mentally ill. Something terrible happened to you John. You were kidnapped by four men. They killed your driver and raped you."

 

John flinched, flashes of men hovering over him, and unbearable pain hit him and he whimpered. The doctor moved to his side adjusting his IV flow and injecting a drug into the line. He smiled when the other man relaxed visibly. John cocked his head looking up at the older man.

 

"Dean, and Kyle…I see their faces. I'm so confused."

 

"Oh course you are, John," a voice said from the door.

 

Both men turned to look at the younger man standing framed in the soft white light of the corridor. John flinched then turned back to the doctor.

 

"I'm so glad that you're awake, honey."

 

Dean crossed the room hurriedly and sat on the edge of the bed, stroking John's hand beneath the strap. John glanced down, then back at the face of the younger man. An image flashed into his mind of that face leering down at him, and searing pain. But that couldn't be. This young man was looking at him with such tender devotion that John was sure that he was mistaken.

 

“No one here would hurt you, John.  I love you so much, you remember that don’t you?”

 

"I don't understand," John stammered.

 

Dean rose, walking smoothly to the table by the window. John's eyes followed his every movement. Picking up a newspaper Dean carried it back to the bed.

 

“Why do I see your faces?”

 

"I don't want to upset you, but I think that you should see this."

 

He tipped the paper so that John could see the headlines. The bold print screamed John Winchester, Domestic Partner of Dean Winchester Abducted. John flinched, and then watched as Dean flipped another headline up. The paper read Four Men Indicted in Winchester Kidnapping. Below the headline were four grainy photos of men, two of them bore an uncanny resemblance to Dean and the big man, Kyle.  John remembered gasping.

 

Quickly Dean dropped the papers and settled down on the bed.

 

"It was how they got past security. They had men that looked like me, my brother Sam, and two of my staff. They're all in jail now, John. They can't hurt you anymore."

 

John shuddered.

 

"I still don't understand, it's all so confusing."

 

Kyle appeared at the door and John uttered a half strangled moan.

 

"Get him away. He's one of them."

 

The doctor jumped forward.

 

"John you saw the paper. It was only a man who looked like Mr. Winchester's driver."

 

"No, he's a demon…"

 

Doctor Harper hissed, "John stop it. You know there is no such thing as demons."

 

Dean held up a hand.

 

"Dave, please! John, I know you believe in demons and angels, all those things. But we’ve talked about that before. It’s all in your imagination. Remember all in the paintings you saw as a child. You’ve told me many stories.  Could a demon handle a rosary or something holy like that?"

 

John swallowed.

 

"No…they can’t touch anything holy."

 

"Dean, it’s too much," the doctor objected but Dean silenced him with a gesture.

 

"If Kyle was one of your demons could he hold something like a crucifix?” Dean asked and when John shook his head he smiled. Turning to the big man he said,

 

“Kyle, bring John his rosary beads, maybe it would comfort him to hold them."

 

John watched in silence as the big man retrieved a wooden rosary and folded it neatly in his hand. He carried it to John, holding it out so that the other man could see it. John frowned.

 

"But, he's…I thought."

 

"You're just confused, John. Would you like Doctor Harper to unfasten the restraints?"

 

"I guess."

 

John looked at the three men then glanced down as the doctor unbuckled the heavy straps on his wrists, dropping them. He took the rosary beads then clutched at the big man's hand turning his palm up. John ran his fingers over the unblemished skin.

 

"You're not burned."

 

Kyle laughed good-naturedly.

 

"No sir, John. I ain't no catholic, but I guess I won't go to hell for that."

 

"But…"

 

John frowned again trying very hard to order his thoughts, pull up the memories he needed, but he kept coming up blank.

 

"I don't understand."

 

“It was just in your head, baby.”

 

Dean sat down taking John's hand again.

 

"Its okay you don't have to process it all in one day."

 

He turned to the doctor.

 

"When do you think John can be moved back to our bedroom? We can take the all the equipment down there. Maybe remove the feeding tube for now."

 

"When John feels well enough to move. I see no reason we can't move him. John, do you feel like moving down the hall to your own room?"

 

"Okay," he said hesitantly, and Dean smiled at him.

 

“I have so much to tell you. I’m so glad you’re awake. Sam and Jessica have been holding off on the wedding until you we’re better. I’ll bet they’ll be so excited to see you.”

 

 

John stood in front of the dresser. He tried tying the bow tie again and sighed. He wasn't doing such a good job. He was slowly recovering. Much of what happened before the abduction was a blur to him. And he was forgetful even now. But he was slowly becoming accustomed to taking part in normal household activities. He had to admit Dean's younger brother and his lovely bride-to-be were helping a great deal. Sam was such a kind young man, and Jessica had taken charge of caring for John as soon as she saw he was up and around.

 

He glanced back at the bed; it was freshly made and he blushed, thinking about how it must have looked to Caroline that morning. The night before he and Dean had made love for the first time since the kidnapping. John wondered what he had done to deserve such a loving and devoted mate. He smiled.

 

There was a knock at the door, and Caroline appeared rolling a teacart inside.

 

“John, I brought your lunch up. Mr. Winchester doesn't want you getting too tired out before the ceremony."

 

John smiled as she set the dishes out then chuckled at the state of his tie. She carefully re-tied it and patted his arm.

 

"Now you eat your lunch, got to keep your strength up. And don't forget your medication."

 

Nodding John picked up the little paper cup that held his pill. He felt vaguely uneasy about taking the drugs, but it was only a little Valium. It just eased his nerves. What was the wrong with that?

 

He smiled at the picture on the table beside his elbow. He looked down at the image of himself and Dean with Sam and Jessica. The wedding was going to be beautiful. John certainly liked Sam. He was such a bright young man. He was going to go places. John dug into his lunch. Yes, Sam certainly had a bright future; he could easily be the youngest President in the history of the country. John nodded.

 

“Everything is just fine,” he whispered under his breath.

 

He didn't even notice that his hand was shaking as he picked up the cup.

 

The End

 

 


End file.
